Moving Forward
by theladyinthemirror
Summary: Sequel to New Beginning. Elliot completes FBI training-He's an agent in NYC. Olivia becomes the target of a serial rapist/murderer when she's recruited by the FBI-She's the decoy wife, but much to her dismay, although Elliot is part of the undercover team, Porter plays her husband. Things are not as they seem: Who's the real target; who's the bad guy; and who can they trust?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone. Hope all is well in the fanfiction world, and folks are surviving the Winter! I'm writing the next installment in the lives of Olivia and Elliot as their relationship progresses, but this time I've tried my hand at placing them in a more plot-driven adventure... all the sexy romance intact of course. I'm still trying to keep it as real as possible in context with the show. Hope you like it.**

**I'll be uploading shorter chapters (approximately 3200 - 3500 words each), but hope to upload twice a week.**

**As always, thank you to all of you who read it, and a special thanks to those of you who let me know if I'm still ontrack.**

**Chapter 1**

**Tuesday, November 27****th**

Olivia stormed into the squad room, nearly colliding with Munch in her haste to get to Captain Cragen's office. Not waiting for a response to her knock, she pushed his door open and strode over to his desk, resting her palms on the edge as she leaned in to address him—just short of invading his personal space.

"I just got off the phone with FBI Assistant Director Putnam! What the hell, Don…?" She made no attempt to keep her voice down; she was pissed and saw no reason to pretend otherwise.

He'd been waiting for her—fully aware of the reason she was there. He slowly raised his eyes from his paperwork. "Sit down, Olivia." It wasn't an invitation.

"Goddammit, Don…"

"Sit down!" This time he left no room for her to ignore his order, and she grudgingly complied.

He slowly rose from his chair and walked to the front of his desk, standing over her. She glared up at him—frustration and nervous energy all but catapulting her back out of the chair.

"Benson, you requested to be the point person on these cases with the FBI… And I granted it—against my better judgment, I might add."

"I thought I'd be coordinating with Elliot on a few cases—not going _undercover_," she protested, clearly unhappy.

He took a few steps back and folded his arms, perching on the edge of his desk. "You're theirs now—for the duration of this case… And neither you nor I get to call the shots."

"But, Don…"

"Olivia. I suggest you work out whatever personal problems you have with Special Agent Dean Porter, and get with the program. He'll be involved in this one…"

"I know. But if I've got to do an undercover op, it should be with Elliot, not…"

"Liv. Do you seriously think you'd be allowed to go undercover as a team…? They know you and Elliot are romantically involved. That's a setup for disaster."

"It's a setup for success!" she hissed. "We've_ done_ undercover ops as a team… countless times—with outstanding results. And you, of all people, know it, Don! We were partners for twelve years for god's sake!"

"But you weren't a couple then, Olivia; you know that makes it more complicated. And even if I felt differently—which I don't," he added, looking over at her to emphasize his point, "…I have absolutely no voice in this one—they went over my head: They requested you. It had nothing to do with the fact that you're the SVU point person—you were _recruited_ by the FBI for this…" He glanced at her, and she knew he was holding something back.

"What aren't you telling me, Don?"

He hesitated… but only for a moment, before he caught her eye. "A strong endorsement was made by Lieutenant Tucker; the 'powers that be' approved it."

Olivia's face registered her disbelief… She jumped up from her chair and paced the small office, raking a hand through her hair. After a moment she turned to her boss, her arms folded, her voice deadly calm. "Why the hell would IAB be involved in this…? That doesn't even make sense, Don: This isn't a function of IAB—they have no tie to the FBI… This has to be personal. Why would _Tucker_ give a rat's ass whether the FBI recruits _me_…? And based on his opinion of me, why the hell would he endorse it?"

"I honestly don't know, Olivia. The truth is… it would've been approved anyway—so it wouldn't have mattered." He held her gaze and she knew he was being truthful with her.

"Who recruited me from the FBI?"

He drew a hand down over his face, knowing there'd be hell to pay, but she deserved an answer.

"Porter."

"I knew it! That son-of-a-bitch…"

"Olivia. Let it go! There's nothing either of us can do. He needed someone from this unit and he's worked with you before… He knows your capabilities; you were his obvious choice for this sting."

Olivia collapsed back in her chair, conceding defeat. After a moment she looked up at her boss. "Do you know they're putting me under _with_ that jack-ass...?" she spat. "…as a 'married' couple!"

Cragen averted his face to hide the amusement in his eyes, before responding. He cleared his throat. "What's Elliot's role gonna be?"

"They told me he'll be a fitness instructor at a country club."

"And you and Porter will be wealthy club members." It was a statement. "Does Elliot know you'll be going under with Porter, yet?"

Olivia rolled her eyes, wearily pulling herself to her feet. "I doubt it; this certainly won't improve their relationship; I think I'll let Porter tell him." Her attempt at humor fell short. "Does my partner know about this?" she asked, fairly certain she knew the answer.

"Need to know, only. When are you headed out?"

"By the end of the week—sooner probably… I'll wrap up Turner and put the rest of my cases in order."

As she moved closer to the door, he spoke again. "Liv… Be safe." The measure of emotion those two words held, could be seen in Donald Cragen's eyes as he looked at her. Their already close relationship had become even closer with all they'd weathered over the last several months. Her courage and dogged devotion had played no small part in bringing Delia Wilson down, along with a host of others; uncovering the corruption that had allowed the woman to become untouchable—and in the process, exonerating her Captain. He'd been back at his post for a little over a month now.

"Yeah…" she said softly, conveying her appreciation with a smile, as she left his office. Making her way to her desk, she dropped into her chair with a frustrated sigh, earning a smirk from her partner.

"Dad not playin' nice with his favorite…?" he taunted.

"Screw you, Amaro," she flung at him, half-heartedly. "I need the file on the Turner case, and all your notes."

"What for…?"

"I'm gonna wrap it up. Hand 'em over."

"Okay..." he said with a shrug. "Works for me..." He searched around on his desk until he found the file, handing it to her with the raise of an eyebrow. Their partnership—still tenuous after his involvement with Carissa, and his run-in with Brian Cassidy—was beginning to improve; but just barely. He watched her silently, wondering what exactly made Olivia Benson tick: There was no question about her capabilities; she was a force to be reckoned with, both in the field and in the squad room. And he never questioned her dedication or her motives; her heart was with the victims, and she'd go the extra mile every time to get justice for them. What he did question—on occasion—were her methods; just how far she'd go to get the outcome she wanted—convinced the end would justify the means.

Ninety minutes, several phone calls, and mounds of paperwork later, Olivia stood up, stretching the kinks out of her back. She grabbed the completed Turner file from her desk and walked to the file room, placing it in the 'T' drawer, just after 'Turnbull.' She closed the drawer and went back to her desk in time to hear Elliot's ringtone on her cell. She picked it up, taking a deep breath before answering—already knowing what would be on his mind.

"Hey, what's up," she asked innocently, hoping perhaps he was calling about something as benign as what time she'd be getting out of work. There was silence on the other end. "El…?"

"Have you talked with Porter?" He was cutting right to the chase.

She sighed. "No. But I talked with Assistant Director Putnam…"

"You're not doin' this, Liv!" A command.

Olivia glanced over at Amaro, and stepped away from her desk to seek a quieter corner of the squad room; someplace where there was no audience. "_Excuse_ me, Elliot…?" I'm not any happier about this than you are—maybe less so… But I _am _doing it! Neither of us has a choice, and we're not jeopardizing our careers over something this stupid."

"I don't trust him, Olivia," he snarled. "Not where you're concerned. That asshole risked your life the last time you worked with him!" He was shouting now. "And he hits on you all the time!"

"Elliot, calm down. He _saved_ my life…"

"By _risking_ it, Olivia!"

"And you and I weren't in a relationship before, El; he's not gonna hit on me now. Besides, he knows how I feel about him; he knows he'll be lucky if I don't shoot him myself."

Elliot chuckled in spite of himself. She could always talk him down… His heart swelled with love for her. "When are you gonna get done today, baby?"

"I'm gonna try to leave here in about fifteen minutes. I've got some errands to run before we go under. Do you need anything?"

"Nah, I don't think so… Wait, will you grab some razors for me? You know the new ones I tried...? Schick, what is it…? Hydro 5…?"

"Yeah, that's it... I'll pick 'em up. And how 'bout we just order pizza tonight instead of cooking?"

"Sounds good to me… I'll be home around 6:30." He hesitated. "Hey." His voice was soft. "I love you, ya know."

"Yeah. I know. Love you too, El."

Olivia hung up and placed her phone in the pocket of her blazer, a smile lighting her face as she made her way back to her desk to wrap things up. Her mind wandered to all the changes in her life in the last eight months, not the least of which was her amazing relationship with her ex-partner, Elliot Stabler—the love of her life. She'd finally taken the next step in that relationship by moving into his apartment. She still retained hers—but she'd moved most of her belongings to his place, and she was that much closer to letting the last tie to her old life go.

Since they'd been together, Elliot had completed his training as a Special Agent for the FBI, at Quantico. He'd been on a fast track, thanks to his background with the Marines, his service during the Gulf War, and his twenty years as a detective with the NYPD—the bulk of which had been spent with the SVU.

As part of the Violent Crimes-Criminal Investigative Division, he'd already been placed in a position in the NYC field office, through NCAVC. He would work closely with CASMIRC, continuing to focus on special victims and sex-related crimes. But eventually his position would be less hands-on—consulting, instructing, directing and organizing—more behind the scenes, less on the front lines.

Part of his job would be to analyze what services would be needed by local law enforcement when they required the assistance of the FBI, and then organize and mobilize the effort. They knew he'd cross paths with Manhattan SVU from time to time, and they both hoped they'd have the opportunity to work together when it did. In the meantime, he still had some dues to pay.

* * *

Olivia raced up the last flight of stairs to Elliot's apartment. She'd had every intention of getting home before him, but with last minute details to tend to at the 1-6 and long lines everywhere else, Elliot was already home.

She transferred all her shopping bags to one arm as she stuck the key in the lock with her free hand, letting herself in. "Hey, El…" she called. "Sorry I'm late." He was sitting on the couch—the look on his face sullen—nursing what Olivia surmised was a glass of Bourbon, since the bottle was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. The TV was turned down low; some local weatherman expounding on the five-day forecast.

He looked up at her, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey, baby… I've been waitin' for you. You get tied up at work?"

"Yeah… And everyplace I went after had lines out the door. Let me just go put this stuff away, and we can order pizza."

"Wait. Come here, baby." He rose from the couch and took the bags from her. Placing them on the floor, he pulled her into his arms. "I need this before you do anything else," he growled, bending his lips to hers and kissing her deeply—leaving the taste of bourbon on her tongue when he pulled away. He rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. "I missed you. And I hate that we're gonna be apart. And I hate even more that Porter's gonna be with you." There was something dangerous in his eyes. "He's gonna be able to introduce you as his _wife_—and I hate that most of all."

Olivia pulled out of his arms. "Elliot… It's just an undercover op for god's sake…"

He pulled her back to him, his eyes smoldering as he looked down at her. "Doesn't matter. That prick shouldn't get to call you his wife—not before I do."

Olivia's eyes widened. "Elliot, where is this coming from? We haven't even talked about this… And we're not gonna talk about it now—not when you've had a few drinks and you're pissed off at Dean Porter."

"But we will talk about it—eventually?" It was a question, not a statement… and his look was hopeful.

She reached one hand up to cradle his face, as she gazed beseechingly into his eyes. "Elliot, please don't rush me. Let me take one thing at a time… I'm here, I'm _living_ with you. I _love_ you, and I'm not going anywhere. That's gotta be enough for now."

The truth was he wanted more—much more: He wanted full claim to this beautiful woman who he loved with his whole being—heart, mind, body, and soul; and to him, that meant a ceremony and a ring on her finger. But he knew he'd wandered into dangerous territory… She wasn't ready—not yet—and he needed to back off. "Yeah, baby… It is—for now." He tenderly kissed her lips once more before releasing her. "I'll order pizza while you put stuff away."

* * *

Elliot lay over her pinning her body beneath him, his strong hands holding her wrists to the bed on either side of her shoulders, his eyes trained on hers. He greedily watched her beautiful face while he slowly moved inside her. He wanted to capture every expression, every emotion, every whimper, every moan; every response her body gave to his, and emblazon it on his memory as sustenance for the days—or god forbid—weeks ahead while they would be apart.

"Elliot… ooh god—so good. Faster, please, El. I need it…" she whimpered. Please don't make me wait." She struggled, trying to release her wrists from his grip and move her body. "I need to move—I need to touch you, El."

He lowered his lips to hers and captured the words, ignoring her pleas for the moment—his need to prolong this greater than his desire to give her the release she sought. When he freed her lips, he moved his own to her ear, whispering his love. "I love you so much, Olivia. Ooooh, baby, I need to go slow tonight—I need to make this last—okay…?"

"Mmmmm, s'okay…" she managed to respond, suddenly understanding. She shifted beneath him just a bit—just enough to take some of the pressure off the hot spots, and tone things down a notch. She smiled into his blue eyes, reveling in the love that shone from them—for her. "I love you, too, Elliot," she said softly, as she gave herself over to him, allowing him to set the pace for their lovemaking. "So, so much, El..."

* * *

She lay in his arms—bemusedly wondering why she didn't let him do all the work more often; and holding off her climax had only enhanced the orgasm that had roared through her, leaving her so sated—so completely satisfied—she barely had strength left to lift her pinky finger. She felt his fingers move through her hair, brushing it out of her eyes. He kissed her forehead then ran his hand down over the curve of her hip, drawing her close.

"Eli said to tell you 'Hi' and he misses you; he's gonna draw a picture of Skippy Jon Jones to give you when you get back."

"Oh, El…" Her voice caught in her throat. "I'm really gonna miss him," she sniffled.

"Yeah. Me too..."

Olivia was touched by the sweetness of Elliot's youngest child, and smiled as she thought again how blessed she was to have this beautiful little boy in her life. She'd been sharing time with all the Stabler children, a role that had amazingly, in some small way, eased the anguish of her own childlessness. She was humbled they'd so readily and graciously allowed her into their lives—and into their hearts. It wasn't lost on her that it was the direct result of how Elliot had handled himself during the final break-up of his marriage: He'd insisted she not be any part of his life until he'd gotten his own head together, his divorce finalized, and his relationships with his children repaired and strengthened. He'd risked the possibility that she'd move on or never forgive him for abandoning her—knowing in the end—after all his hard work, he might still lose her. But he wouldn't come to her on any other terms; it bespoke the true integrity of the man she loved.

They'd celebrated their first major holiday together the previous week, both opting to work on Thanksgiving, thus allowing others in their units to have the day off—since they wouldn't be with the kids until the weekend. Rather than recreate the Thanksgiving Day feast, they'd decided to have everyone contribute to one of the Stabler clan's favorite meals: homemade baked lasagna, complete with luscious salads, freshly baked yeast roles, and home-made cream puffs… a surprise provided by Richard. The day was replete with wonderfully relaxed chaos, and after everyone had gone, Olivia was left with the feeling that perhaps she just might learn to enjoy the holidays—a far cry from the dread that usually filled her about this time of the year.

"Did you get everything worked out with Kathy?" she asked as she snuggled closer.

"Yeah… Turns out she's got some comp time coming, so she'll use it as she needs to until we're back; and the kids will help out when they can. I think she was a little put out, but she was okay with it."

"This must have been what it was like for you every time we got involved in a long case, or had to go under, huh?" She ran her hand over his chest, making lazy circles with her fingers. "You must have missed them, terribly, El… No wonder you used to get so pissy."

"Pissy, huh…?" He rolled her over, capturing her wrists and holding them above her head with one of his hands, wrapping the other in her long auburn locks and pulling her lips to his. "I think you better recant, pretty baby, 'cause I know all the places that drive you crazy, and I happen to know you haven't got enough energy left to fight me off tonight. You gonna take it back…?"

"Never."

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading. Chapter 2 will be up Wednesday morning.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to all who read Chapter 1, and for the reviews...**

**Chapter 2**

**Thursday, November 29****th**

Olivia settled back in her chair in Conference Room B of the New York City FBI Office at 26 Federal Plaza—Elliot's new headquarters—just two and a half miles from the 16th Precinct. As she'd predicted, she'd been called in before the week was out. She and Elliot would have one more night together before going undercover, but today they were meeting with the small group of agents and support staff who were involved in the operation; they'd be introduced to the case, and brought up-to-speed. The unknown subject—or unsub, was a serial rapist and murderer who preyed on wealthy married couples, raping the wife, and robbing his victims before killing them. They'd be familiarizing themselves with his many crime scenes and victims, and learn about the logistics of the operation.

Two Incident Boards—or the more sophisticated Smart Boards, since they were electronic—were set up at the front of the room, each dedicated to different aspects of the case; a far cry from the operation that took place in the bullpen back at the 16th Precinct. A couple of young techie types were fussing over the high-tech equipment. A few agents were standing around chatting and looking bored, waiting for the last few members of the team—including Dr. George Huang—to arrive.

Olivia didn't know anyone except Dean Porter and Elliot. They were talking to the Assistant Director in Charge, Corinne Putnam, a vivacious red-head, pushing sixty—short and a little plumb, but not unattractive. She'd introduced herself to Olivia when she'd first arrived, but her attention had quickly been drawn elsewhere. Olivia watched the threesome, and studied the body language of the two men as they continued their animated conversation with their director. She could tell by Elliot's rigid posture—although no one else would have been able to—that he was on guard. She assumed it was because of his close proximity to Dean Porter. Dean, on the other hand, appeared to be completely relaxed—totally comfortable in familiar surroundings, doing a job he'd done for most of his adult life.

Olivia felt a light tap on her shoulder and looked up into the smiling face of George Huang. "Okay if I sit here, Liv?" he asked, indicating the chair to her right.

"Sure… I'll feel less like the new kid in class," she grinned, moving her coffee and cell phone out of the way. "Of course, Elliot's here… But we're trying to keep a low profile. Oh—and Dean Porter," she said dismissively, not bothering to further qualify her remark.

Huang settled in beside her and took a moment to organize his notes before turning to Olivia. "So you're going undercover… How do you feel about that, Liv?"

Was he actually trying to 'shrink' her? Here in the FBI conference room with people milling all around? She turned toward him, mildly irritated. "Really, George…? Are you seriously tryin' to get in my head right now?"

"No, Liv. I'm talking to you as a friend and a colleague," he chuckled, noting her attempt to mask her irritation. They'd become friends over the years, and he was familiar with the prickly side of Olivia Benson… He understood her reluctance to his probing and he respected it—she was an intensely private person.

She relaxed and shook her head, offering an apology. "I'm sorry, George. You know," she smirked, leaning toward him, "…when you're not in session and you're having a conversation with someone, you really shouldn't finish your sentences with 'How do you feel about that…' "

"Point taken," he grinned.

"And in answer to your question, I would definitely prefer to be doing this with Elliot—not Porter. But other than that… I'm okay."

"You and Porter will be posing as a married couple… But Elliot will still be going under with you. How do you think he'll handle that, Liv?"

Olivia looked over at him with narrowed eyes. "Why don't you ask _him, _George?" She didn't try to hide her irritation this time.

He leaned closer, maintaining eye contact with her. "Because I'm asking _you_, Olivia… You know him better than he knows himself."

She never wavered as she shot back at him. "You may not be analyzing me, George, but you're sure as hell _looking_ for something."

He gently laid a hand on her arm. "Olivia… Believe it or not, I'm concerned about you as friends. If I didn't think you both could handle it, I would have said so when they asked for my assistance in pulling a team together."

"Did _you_ recommend I go undercover with Porter?" Her tone was accusatory.

"No. I recommended you _not_ go under with Elliot—at least not as a married couple."

"So we were being considered…?"

"Yes—and I vetoed it. Porter requested to turn his position as handler over to Frank Barrett, so he could step into the role _with_ you."

Olivia was pissed, but as much as she wanted to fight it, her gut told her Huang and Cragen were right; she and Elliot should not be so closely aligned in this one. She trusted them: They knew them both—probably better than anyone else—_and_ they cared about them. But she was furious with Porter.

"You wanted to know how Elliot's handling this: He's aggravated that he and I aren't going in together—but he gets it." She looked at him pointedly, then hesitated a moment before dropping her eyes and lowering her voice. "But he's furious that Porter's going in with me."

"Thank you, Olivia. That's important to know. I'll set up a session with him before he goes under." He was aware there was tension between Olivia and Porter, and knew of Elliot's outright distrust of the agent—but he'd never had occasion to pursue the reasons for it. He waited for her to raise her eyes to his. "Liv… How are _you_ gonna handle being with Porter?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I'd like to smack him into next Tuesday!" But I'll make it work."

Huang grinned in spite of his effort not to. "I believe you will."

People were beginning to fill in the empty seats around the table, and Olivia was pleased to see Elliot settle on the opposite side—a few seats down from her; not too close, but at least they could keep each other in sight. She made brief eye contact with him and he gave her a smile that quickly turned to a frown as his eyes focused on something to her left. She turned in the direction he was looking just as Dean Porter pulled out the chair beside her and placed his coffee on the table.

She looked up, and when her eyes met his she was unprepared for the anger that surged through her—surprised he could stir this much emotion in her—especially since she was so happy with Elliot, and had no desire to pursue anything with him. She was tempted to say what she was thinking: "Really, Porter…? You couldn't find another seat?" Fortunately, her good manners prevailed, and she merely nodded.

He looked at her with a smug grin as he lowered himself into the chair. "Hello, Olivia. Nice to see you, too…" His voice was heavy with sarcasm. "It would seem you and I have a lot to talk about—wifey," he said with smirk.

It took every bit of self-control she could muster to not reach up and slap the grin off his arrogant face, but she knew she had to take the high road. Aside from the obvious fact that she was in a roomful of strangers on whom her very life would depend in the next few weeks, she couldn't allow Dean to goad her in front of Elliot. So she took a deep breath, and managed a smile. "You're right, Dean—we do need to talk." Then she turned, catching Elliot's eye… She winked at him, before giving her attention to Assistant Director Putnam, who was preparing to address the group. She'd stepped up to the lectern at the head of the table and was perusing her notes.

"If everyone would please take a seat… We have a lot of ground to cover and I'd like to get started." She waited a few moments for the last of the stragglers to get seated, before continuing. "Thank you all for being here." She adjusted her glasses and took a moment to flip through her notes.

"We have a fairly ambitious agenda, today," she said, stepping away from the lectern and ticking off the agenda items on her fingers as she walked around the room. "One: Go over the existing crime scenes to take a closer look at the already established patterns. Two: Examine the profile of the victims. Three: Review the profile of the unsub. And four: Go over the logistics for this op. We hope to get you out of here early… Some of you will have some studying to do tonight."

Olivia found herself liking this woman… She appreciated the 'straight-forward—no bullshit' approach she took. Knowing the amount of information that would soon be disseminated, she took out a pen and notebook from her purse, and found the appropriate app on her iphone, setting it to record.

Putnam cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention back to herself. "Before we start, I'd like to introduce our NYPD presence, Detective Olivia Benson of the Special Victims Unit. She's our point person with the NYPD, and she's no stranger to the FBI. Detective Benson… Welcome, and thank you for being here."

Olivia nodded in acknowledgement of her introduction. "Thank you. I'm honored to be part of the operation." She caught a glimpse of Elliot and noted the pride on his face. She made a concerted effort to not make eye contact with him.

"And now I'm going to direct your attention to Smart Board One and Agent Gavin McBride. He'll introduce us to what the media has dubbed 'The Country Club Murders' and give a brief sketch of the previous crime scenes. Gavin."

A man stood up from the table and approached the board. His medium height and muscular good looks were just shy of handsome, and with his fair coloring and ginger hair, Agent McBride looked every bit as Scottish as his name suggested… Olivia half expected him to talk with a brogue and found herself almost disappointed when he sounded more like a Harvard graduate from Boston. He nodded to the Assistant Director. "Thank you, Connie." Turning his attention to the Smart Board, he reached up and touched the screen and a map of the United States filled it. Most of the states were muted grays and whites with no printed information, with the exception of about a dozen that were multicolored, and clearly labeled; they were connected with lines and arrows.

Agent McBride studied the images for a few moments before turning around to face the group at the table, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie—denoting a shyness that Olivia found amusing in an FBI agent. He gestured to the board. "The states highlighted in color represent the locations of the thirteen _known_ crime scenes. They're numbered chronologically, according to the timeframe in which they took place.

He touched the screen again and the map grew smaller and a numbered list of locations and dates popped up beside it:

(1) Houston, TX – September 4, 2009;

(2) Phoenix, AZ – December 7, 2009;

(3) Los Angeles, CA – March 13, 2010;

(4) San Francisco, CA – June 7, 2010;

(5) Portland, OR- August 30, 2010;

(6) Hobe Sound, FL – December 5, 2010;

(7) Augusta, GA – February 27, 2011;

(8) Pine Valley, NJ – May 28, 2011;

(9) Philadelphia, PA – August 21, 2011;

(10) Oakmont, PA – December 10, 2011;

(11) Greenwich, CT – March 9, 2012;

(12) Newport, RI – June 3, 2012;

(13) Rochester, NY – August 31, 2012.

McBride allowed everyone time to peruse the information on the board… Some people took notes, while others would download the information to their electronic devices later on. Olivia chose to do both, knowing she would retain the information better if she wrote it down. She studied the board, quickly jotting down the location and date of each crime in her own stylized version of shorthand.

Dean Porter leaned over, his shoulder brushing hers. She flinched, moving slightly away… not deterring him in the least as he moved in closer. He looked at her notes. "Pretty impressive," he said, with a raise of his eyebrow, giving her a smirk. "If you leave the NYPD you'll have job skills to fall back on."

She glared at him—remembering how cocky and irritating he could be—before returning her attention to the screen. She concentrated on the red line connecting the states: It allowed you to follow the progression of the murders that started in Texas, traveled up the West Coast, made its way diagonally across the country from the State of Oregon to the State of Florida, and travelled up the East Coast, ending in the State of New York.

Agent McBride continued. "We've established the following: Three years—thirteen crime scenes, all located in wealthy communities. They have the following in common: The crimes were committed in the homes of wealthy married couples; the couples were members of an exclusive country club in the community."

Once again, Porter leaned toward her, his expensive aftershave invading her senses as he moved close enough to whisper in her ear. "That will be us…"

Olivia gritted her teeth and decided to ignore him, because if she didn't, she was gonna punch him. She caught a glimpse of Elliot out of the corner of her eye, grateful that his chair was angled away from the table, to better see the Smart Board. She focused on McBride as he drew their attention to the State of Texas—indicated as the first crime scene by the number one. He reached up and touched it and the screen filled with the image of a mansion indicative of affluence. There was a headshot of an attractive couple in the upper right hand corner; obviously the owners of the property—and the victims of the crime. This was followed by an image of the palatial grounds and buildings of a country club. He repeated the process until all thirteen crime scene locations and victims, along with the corresponding country clubs had been displayed.

"We've established that he's targeting wealthy communities that include an exclusive, 'old-school' country club; we believe he somehow infiltrates these private clubs and it is from here he selects and stalks his victims. Based on our analysis of the data, and our intelligence gathering, all indicators point to Hempstead, Long Island, NY as his next intended strike—enough to support setting up a sting there. This is where we're focusing our attention. McBride closed the program and the screen went blank. I'll turn it back over to you, Connie."

Porter leaned over to whisper to Olivia again. She grimaced and turned toward him. "Now you can see why I handpicked you to play the wife, Olivia: All the wives were knock-outs," he grinned, leering at her. Olivia's look of revulsion did nothing to lessen the apparent enjoyment he was taking in tormenting her. Was he deliberately trying to provoke her? She felt the first tentacles of unease seep into her consciousness: She'd never known Dean to be unprofessional… He could be annoying as hell, but he was a dedicated agent—all business. Granted, he was ruthless—as demonstrated in the last case they'd been involved in; and he could be an ass—smug and arrogant, but he'd never been petty or malicious. And before today, he'd always been the consummate gentleman with her—_never_ invading her personal space.

Elliot had chosen that moment to turn his chair back to face the table. He looked over at Olivia. She was still busily jotting down notes. Porter was watching her, an amused grin on his face. He leaned over to whisper something to her and Elliot caught a fleeting expression of irritation on her face, before she turned on him with a look of disdain. If the Assistant Director had not addressed them at that moment, he'd have been tempted to go over and thump Porter. He realized he needed to get his emotions in check, if there was any hope of keeping his head in the game and functioning effectively, but something about the familiarity Porter was directing toward Olivia didn't sit right with him—something was off. He was sure of it.

"Thank you, Gavin. If you could now please focus on Smart Board Two…" Everyone turned their attention to where she was pointing. "Agent Jessica Abramsen will walk us through the profile of the victims."

Olivia watched the young woman make her way to the Smart Board, and groaned inwardly. The agent looked about twelve, causing her to wonder how she could be expected to put her faith in someone who didn't look like she'd attended her senior prom yet. Agent Abramsen turned to address the group. She wasn't pretty in an overt way, but her Scandinavian features were pleasing, and she looked strong and healthy, and wholesome—like she'd grown up on a farm in the mid-West and been corn-fed.

"I'm going to give a brief profile of the victims connected to the thirteen crime scenes, and a compilation of the similarities," she said, reaching up to touch the board. The screen filled… this time with the image of an attractive couple—the victims of the first crime scene in Texas. Abramsen proceeded to give the details, changing the correlating images on the screen as she talked. Her voice was clear and confident, lending her a maturity that her appearance lacked.

There were photos of the interior of the house, and evidence from the crime scene, including shots of the hidden surveillance equipment, the opened vault, and the bodies of the couple before they'd been removed by the coroner. The husband was still tied to a chair, but slumped back against it, a small caliber bullet wound clearly visible in the center of his forehead. The wife lay spread-eagled on the bed, bound with elaborate restraints. Her body was apparently nude, but bedding partially covered her, and there was an identical bullet wound in the center of her forehead.

Abramsen quickly and methodically went over the thirteen crime scenes, in less time than Olivia would have expected. She closed out the images of the last scene and faced the group. "At this point, I'm going to show a list of similarities between the crime scenes. If anyone has anything to add, please speak up," she said, touching the screen once more, revealing the lists she'd referenced.

**FACTS**

Attractive middle-aged couple (wife particularly attractive)

Established wealth (probably 'old money')

Safe or vault in the home containing valuables (jewelry, family heirlooms, $)

Evidence of stalking (technically sophisticated surveillance found at scene)

No evidence of break-in (ready or easy access)

Couple subdued-Professional restraints

Husband forced to watch rape and murder of wife; husband then murdered

Murders committed execution style – Single bullet between the eyes

**DEDUCTIONS / QUESTIONS**

**Gains easy access to the home of the victims – How?**

(1) Employment at Country Club i.e. personal fitness trainer?

(2) Member of Country Club – Invitation to home?

**Master of disguise**

(1) Witness descriptions of possible suspect differ from crime scene to crime scene

Olivia quickly jotted down the information and studied the facts of the case before asking a question of her own. "Do we have any suspects in this case?"

Agent Abramsen looked to the Assistant Director, who in turn gestured to Franklin Barrett, the agent assigned as the contact or 'handler' during the op. He addressed Olivia directly. "No, we don't, Detective Benson. That's why we've got to catch this bastard red-handed."

"Have there been any attempted stings, before this one…?" she asked.

Barrett's face registered frustration—clearly not directed at her. Olivia tucked it away, determined to pursue the reasons for it with him later. "This is the first."

"May I ask why?"

Olivia watched his face as he hesitated, struggling with the question. He was ruggedly handsome, in a 'Marlboro man' kind of way, and she guessed him to be in his early sixties. He scrubbed his hand down over his face and sighed resignedly before answering. "The pattern has only recently emerged, Detective. Private Country Clubs are just that—private. They're unwilling to share information or bring attention to themselves… and they have the money to make it go away. As you can imagine, with little information it's difficult to compile the kind of data needed to predict with any accuracy where he'll strike next, in order to set up a sting like this."

Olivia nodded in agreement, sensing there was something more—something he was holding back… She'd pursue it with him when they were alone. "Thank you, Agent Barrett."

Assistant Director Putnam stepped back to the lectern. "Okay… How 'bout we take a fifteen minute break. There's a mini-kitchen at the end of the hallway with bottled water, coffee, tea, a micro-wave… You'll find some vending machines just outside. When we come back, Dr. Huang will provide us with the profile of the unsub."

Purposely ignoring Dean Porter, Olivia looked across the table and her eyes met Elliot's. He smiled and gestured, first to her and then to himself, with a question in his eyes. She smiled back and gave a slight nod of her head as she gathered her belongings and tucked them into her purse. She noticed Huang bent over his notes, obviously preparing for his presentation. She leaned over to him. "Can I bring you something, George?"

He smiled up at her. "A bottle of water would be nice. Thanks, Liv."

"You got it," she said as she turned away from the table, bumping into Porter.

"We should take this few minutes to get together… We've got a lot to go over," he told her, with that smirk on his face that seemed to be a permanent fixture, now.

"Sorry, I'm taking a break… We can get together later." She started to walk away and Porter stepped in front of her again, blocking her path. "Porter, get the fuck out of my way," she hissed, low enough that no one else could hear.

"You heard her, Porter." Elliot had walked up behind Olivia. He placed his hand at the small of her back. His demeanor was calm, almost pleasant—but the look in his eye said it all.

Looking first at Olivia and then Elliot, he scoffed, but turned around and walked away. Elliot pulled her to him, giving her a brief squeeze before releasing her. "There's something going on with him that's not quite right, Olivia," he said, keeping his voice low—bracing for her protests.

The look she gave him told him she didn't disagree. "I know."

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading! Next chapter will be uploaded on Sunday...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys. Thanks for reading the first two chapters!**

**Chapter 3**

The break was nearly over by the time Olivia made it back to her seat. She handed a bottle of water to Huang and placed her tea on the table, as she settled into her chair. George looked over and smiled his appreciation. He opened it and drank deeply before he picked up his notes and headed to Smart Board Two, just as the Assistant Director approached the lectern. Dean was no where in sight.

"Welcome back. Dr. Huang will introduce us to the unsub followed by a brief Q and A, if desired—and then we'll take our mid-day break. I know a lot of you have phone calls to make and emails to answer, so we'll break for two hours. Without further ado, please turn your attention to board two, and Dr. George Huang.

George turned to address the group gathered around the table. "I'm going to talk about the profile that has emerged of the man who has perpetrated the horrible crimes we've seen in living color on these screens today. I'll address one point at a time and give a brief synopsis of the reasons for my deductions." He reached up and touched the screen, revealing the first point.

**1) White male, age twenty-five to forty-five**

"That information is not surprising to anyone in law enforcement, although in recent years the ethnicity aspect has been challenged. In this case, I believe it applies, but I want to elaborate: We know this man easily made his way around some of the oldest, most exclusive country clubs in the United States, ultimately gaining access to the homes of some of the wealthiest members, several of whom were descendents of 'old money…' founding families. It is highly unlikely he's a man of color—even if he were a fitness instructor or golf pro—but especially if he posed as a member. Most of these clubs are comprised of the classic WASP: white, Anglo Saxon, protestant…" He reached up and touched the screen again, revealing the second point.

**2) Highly intelligent and extremely organized**

"This doesn't require a lot of explanation: The man has pulled off thirteen rape/ murder/ robberies—that we _know_ of… without leaving a _trace _of DNA. There's evidence of sophisticated surveillance equipment used to stalk his victims. He blended into and freely moved around in a community that requires a certain amount of savvy and world knowledge. The man is brilliant."

It's probable he has a successful career—something that gives him control and power: The criminal justice system or law enforcement… Possibly even a military background. But _not_ something that would gain the approval of his family or the high society circles in which they move. This only adds fuel to the fire.

Huang checked in with the group around the table. "Are there any questions or comments?" He paused for a few moments and when no one spoke up, he continued. "Okay… We'll have opportunity for discussion at the end." He touched the screen again, bringing point number three into view.

**3) Attractive and single**

"He no doubt has no lack of opportunity for relationships—probably with beautiful women. But I suspect there are few… and those are unsuccessful. I wouldn't be surprised if he uses his career as an excuse to not pursue the few that look promising." He moved on to the next point.

**4) Comes from a background of 'old money,' but was never able to obtain any of the family money or prestige**

"He was able to become part of this scene—well enough to blend into the background… He understands it intrinsically. He knows how to talk the talk—he knows how to 'be' in this setting. I'd bet my reputation he was born into an 'old money' family. Which brings us to points five and six..." A touch of the screen, and the next two points came into view.

**5) Disappointment to his powerful father**

**6) Neglected by his beautiful mother**

"I expect there was at least one sibling. I believe his father was a tyrant; he was emotionally cold and ruled his children with an iron fist, requiring absolute obedience and respect from them—tolerating nothing less. But it's quite probable he doted on and indulged his beautiful wife… All his affection was lavished on her."

"His approval was hard-won, but his wrath was easily incurred. I doubt he resorted to anything as crass as physical violence. He used humiliation, rejection—a total loss of his affection—as his weapons. And ultimately, as the children got older, the family name and fortune became his tools of manipulation: The threat of being cast out and cut-off… I expect the unsub never quite measured up—never quite won the approval of the family patriarch, and in the end was probably cut off from all ties—including the family fortune."

"While his father hurt and angered him with his rejection, his mother _enraged_ him… She created the greater sin by ignoring and neglecting him. She was beautiful, self-indulgent, narcissistic—so self-involved she couldn't be bothered to acknowledge his existence. His father at least engaged in his life—he wanted something from him. But his mother gave him no validation at all… She didn't want to be _bothered_ with him—he could elicit no response, no emotion from his mother. He was no doubt passed off to a string of nannies.

This man is motivated by psychological gratification: He's angry—enraged at his parents. The crimes he's committed against each of these couples have been his attempt to enact the ultimate punishment—over and over. His obsession with his mother creates a need to possess her: So he rapes the wife. And he hates his father and wants to punish him—make him suffer the way he suffered; humiliate him: So he overpowers and restrains the husband, forcing him to watch while he violates the thing that is most precious to him—his beautiful wife. Then he adds insult to injury by robbing them of the possessions they hold most dear: The items from their vault or safe—family jewels and heirlooms—things they don't even trust to their banks; his material birthright. And his final act: He kills them—face to face. He wants the last thing they see before they die to be his face."

Olivia found herself chilled as Huang wrapped up his profile. She'd been exposed to SVU cases for close to fourteen years now, and had seen first-hand every imaginable depravity… But this—this was a whole new level of sick and crazy. Knowing she'd be used as a pawn to lure him left her cold.

"Are there any questions…?" he asked.

"Yeah, George…" Elliot leafed through his notes. "The time-line… there's only evidence of these crimes going back three years…?"

"You're right, Elliot. That tells me one of three things:

**One.** His crimes were much less sophisticated before—a slightly different MO—so we're unable to pick up the pattern

**Two.** He has actually committed more with his current MO, but because of the extreme privacy afforded this segment of the population, they aren't coming to light

**Three.** And I believe this is the most likely scenario… There was a catastrophic event in his life in the last four years that triggered a psychotic break—most likely, a loss of one, or both, of his parents. All indicators tell us he's an intelligent man with a successful career—and until this event he was _seemingly _holding it together. I would give him a preliminary diagnosis of ASPD—anti-social personality disorder… As is typical of this diagnosis, this man knows how to mask his anti-social traits, but I expect there were indicators from childhood of his psychopathy.

* * *

Olivia settled back in her chair as Agent Barrett took a seat across from her; she wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to talk to Barrett without Dean Porter around. Elliot had gone to his office to tend to some last minute details, and they'd made plans to meet in an hour for lunch.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Agent Barrett... I'm sure you've got a lot on your plate," she said, smiling across the table at the man she could so easily picture sitting astride a horse—a Stetson on his head and spurs on his boots—a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"First off, please call me Frank." He even had a raspy smoker's voice. The laugh lines around his crisp blue eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. "And second, I make it a practice to be available to a beautiful woman." He grinned with appreciation when she blushed. "Ah, I like a woman who doesn't expect compliments…" He paused, smiling into her eyes. "…but still knows how to accept one..." He nodded his head in approval. "Besides, I'm your contact—my time is yours."

Olivia didn't hesitate. "In that case, please call me Olivia. And please don't take this the wrong way, Frank, but you'll learn this about me as we get to know each other—I don't waste time beating around the bush." She looked directly into his eyes. "When I asked you about possible suspects and previous stings, I got the feeling there was a whole lot more you _didn't _say, than what you _did_ say. Look me in the eye and tell me I was wrong."

Barrett's eyebrows shot up, and he stared at her appraisingly for a moment before his face broke into another grin. "Goddamn! I think I'm gonna like workin' with you, Detective Benson. They told me you were sharp… Good. You'll need to be."

"Olivia. Please…" she reiterated. "Care to elaborate…?"

He cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand down over his face—an apparent habit. Leaning across the table he looked her in the eye, giving as steady a gaze as she'd given him. "I'm not real keen on this sting—I think we've got faulty info… Somethin's not right—it came too damn easy. I think it's a set-up." He tipped back in his chair for a moment and then leaned in once more, giving her a sobering look. "Course, that's not a popular opinion, so I wouldn't quote me," he said, his eyes conveying his message.

Olivia started to ask him a question, but quickly changed the topic when she saw Dean Porter stroll into the conference room. "So how long have you been with the FBI, Frank?" she asked, acknowledging Porter with a brief nod.

"Too damn long, Olivia…" he muttered as he stood. "…too damn long. I'll catch up with you later. We've got lots to go over." He gave a curt nod to Porter as he headed out the door.

Porter sauntered over to the table and sat down in the chair Barrett had just vacated. "Miss me…?" he asked with an arrogant grin. Olivia didn't bother to answer. She gathered up her belongings and stood up. "Are you trying to avoid me, Olivia…?" She saw a flash of anger in his eyes as his grin faded.

"No, Dean… I'm meeting Elliot for lunch. I'll see you in an hour." She picked up her purse and headed to the door.

"Wait… What were you and Barrett talking about?" His voice was belligerent, and he made no attempt to disguise his dislike for the older agent.

Her instincts told her she needed to appease him, not piss him off—and not give him any reason to be suspicious. She turned, forcing a pleasant smile on her face. "We were just getting acquainted. Since he's my handler, I thought it made sense." He appeared to accept her answer, and she turned around and left the room.

* * *

Olivia had almost reached Elliot's office when she rounded a corner and nearly plowed into him. His face split in a grin as soon as he saw her. "Hey... I finished up a few minutes early and was just coming to find you." He placed an arm around her, corralling her back to his office and drawing her inside, closing the door behind them. He pulled her into his arms. "I've wanted to do this all morning," he said, leaning down to kiss her soft lips.

"You have, huh…?" she teased as they came up for air.

"Yes. I have. Turns out its very distracting having you in the same room and being forced to keep my hands off you…" He smirked, looking down at her. "I'll be damned if I know how the hell I did it for twelve years," he allowed, kissing her again. "You look very beautiful today," he whispered. "I can't wait to get you home tonight… I'm gonna make love to you all night long, baby." He ground his rapidly growing erection against her, emphasizing his intentions.

Olivia caught her breath and felt a certain part her anatomy react to his words, as the evidence of their validity, pressed into her hip. She smiled up at him and gently pulled out of his arms. "As much as I enjoy this… and I _do _enjoy it," she purred, "…we better go grab something to eat and get back here." Before turning away, she reached up and whispered in his ear, her voice throaty. "You hold that thought though, Special Agent Stabler."

They took a quick walk to a little spot Elliot frequented, that served soups, salads and sandwiches. While they waited for their orders, Elliot reached to take Olivia's hand, giving her a serious look. "Anything about this whole thing seem off to you…? Or is it just me…?"

Olivia took a deep breath. "Something seems very off. And I don't just mean_ Porter_," she said with a sneer.

Elliot's look darkened. "I wanna pop that ass…"

"Yeah. I know—so do I… But we can't. You know, as angry as I was at him after Rojas, and as much of a pain in the ass he's been at other times, I've never seen this behavior from him before, Elliot. I mean—he's always been a perfect gentleman with me. And there's no one who took their job more seriously; it's like he's had a complete personality change."

"A lobotomy's more like it," Elliot scoffed. "I'm kinda glad we're not goin' in together on this one, Liv. This gives me more latitude—and I sure as hell wouldn't want Porter handling us. I trust Frank—and you can keep an eye on Porter, so I can have _your_ back."

"Hmmm… I was thinking the same thing, El." She grinned over at him. "Looks like 'Benson and Stabler' are back," she quipped, before continuing in a more serious tone. "I had a conversation with Frank..."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Frank, huh…? First name basis already…?"

"Elliot… I swear to god if you go there…"

His face broke into a grin. "Relax, baby… I'm teasin' you. Frank's a good guy."

She gave him a look that didn't quite let him off the hook, but continued. "He thinks something's off, too… He said the information came too easily—said it feels like a set-up."

Alarm flashed in Elliot's eyes. "Wow! This just became a whole different ballgame, Liv. I don't like it."

"What the hell have we stepped in, Elliot…?"

* * *

Assistant Director Putnam stood at the lectern once again, introducing the last presenter of the day. "Agent Dean Porter will now give us the rundown on the set-up of the operation on Long Island, in Hempstead. Our office has jurisdiction in Nassau County on Long Island. That makes it that much easier for our presence to be there, and gives us more resources to draw from in the surrounding community. Dean."

Porter made his way to Smart Board One. "Thank you, Connie." He reached up and touched the screen bringing a gorgeous mansion and breath-taking grounds into view. "This is 'Crestview…' It's a private residence loaned to us for this op by a member of the community who has ties to the FBI. It will become the home of the 'Randolphs…' Better known to you as Agent Dean Porter," he said, smiling deferentially. "…and Detective Olivia Benson." He gestured in Olivia's direction, and much to her relief, refrained from doing or saying anything inappropriate. Maybe she'd been being too sensitive to him—over-reactive.

"We've just moved to the 'neighborhood,' and the way has been paved to become members of the Hempstead Golf and Country Club." He touched the board again, revealing the outside views of the country club. With another swipe, the interior views were displayed. "The Hempstead Golf and Country Club is a private, member-owned club and is open only to members and their invited guests. It's located on Front Street, close to the West Hempstead line. Crestview is about two and three-quarters miles away, on Clinton Road, past Brierley Park."

"One thing has remained constant with the unsub: He strikes four times within a calendar year, roughly every three months… While there's been some variation of the other months, he's been consistently active in the month of December.

"Since winter is nearly here, the Club won't have the traffic it sees the rest of the year—pretty hard to golf in the snow. But the fitness center stays active year round, and lots of club members come to use the pool and the gym. Fitness trainers tend to actually be a little busier in the winter months. And we're just approaching the Holiday season; the month of December is a whirlwind of activities, and almost every member comes out for these festive occasions."

"It's a good time of year to bring new people on board without raising suspicion. We've strategically placed our people within the club's structure: Stabler will assume the role of 'Fitness and Body Trainer,' Zach Thomas. Abramsen will be running the front desk, as Jess Green, and McBride will be the new head of security, Andrew MacDonald—better known as Mac. Frank Barrett is our handler. There will be about a dozen other agents dispersed between the two properties—groundskeepers, bar tenders, waiters, security."

"And because we can't operate in a vacuum, we have a point person at the country club: Chairman of the Board, James Hobbs. We also have a contact in the Hempstead Police Department: Police Chief Gregory. Their contact information will be in your assignment packet." Porter paused and looked over to the Assistant Director. "On that note, Connie, I'll hand it back to you."

Porter made his way back to the table and took his seat beside Olivia, as the Assistant Director returned to the lectern. "Thank you, Dean. There's an assignment packet for each of you, and at this point Frank will hand them out. You've all done this before, so I don't have to tell you you'll find everything you need to know about your assignments in there. Your id documents are in there, too: license, credit cards, birth certificates, diplomas—the works."

Frank quickly passed the packets around. When he handed Olivia hers, he leaned toward her and said quietly, "You'll need to report to the wardrobe gurus for measurements before you leave today… They need to find gowns and other appropriate clothin' for you." He gave her a wink and went back to his seat.

Putnam continued with the wrap-up. "Thank you, everyone, for your time. Take care of any loose ends in your personal lives tonight and tomorrow morning, and report here by noontime. Oh, Detective Benson, you and Agent Porter are scheduled for a photo shoot tomorrow morning at 8:30… You both need to bring some old pictures of yourselves that can be photo-shopped—for wedding, special occasions, vacations, et cetera. You know the drill."

Olivia managed to smile and nod, while inwardly groaning, as she caught the grimace on Elliot's face. Porter leaned toward her to whisper in her ear. "Did you remember to pick up Elliot's razors, Olivia…? The 'Schick Hydro 5…?' You better give him a fond farewell tonight,_ baby,_ 'cause startin' tomorrow you're mine—_all _mine. Who knows… he might not be gettin' you back." He grabbed his packet from the table and stood up, and before she could react, he'd slunk out the door. A cold chill slithered up her spine, and dread settled in the pit of her stomach making her feel physically ill. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard—or the implications of it. Something was terribly wrong!

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading! Chapter 4 will be posted on Wednesday**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone. Thanks for reading the first three chapters. I see folks are starting to be intrigued with the story line... I appreciate those of you who've left reviews. I know this one is a lot different from my first two... It starts a little slower, because there's a lot of information to assimilate. It starts to pickup a little more in the next few chapters. Hope you enjoy it.**

**Chapter 4**

Elliot saw Porter lean over and whisper in Olivia's ear with that sickening smirk on his face that seemed to always be there now—at least, whenever he was talking to _her_. He watched her expression turn from irritation, to anger, to something close to alarm. By the time he'd reached her Porter was gone, but she'd made no effort to move from the table. Olivia's face had lost most of its color, and she looked slightly ill. Elliot leaned over and touched her arm, startling her.

"Liv…? What the hell did he say to you?" The question served to motivate her. She threw her phone and notebook into her purse and grabbed her assignment packet. She stood, indicating they should leave—making it clear she didn't want to discuss it until they were alone.

They stopped for the required measurements check, which thankfully took less than ten minutes… But she'd been quiet since they'd left the conference room. Once settled in the car, Elliot turned to her, reaching over to take her hand. "Liv, tell me what that bastard said to you." His own emotions felt like a tinderbox ready to ignite, and it was taking every bit of discipline he could muster to keep from going after the asshole and tearing him limb from limb.

Olivia looked over at him, nervously chewing on her lower lip, worry clouding her pretty brown eyes. Suddenly, she reached into her purse, and pulled out her phone. "I think I might have recorded him, Elliot." She scrolled through until she found what she was searching for, and then held it so Elliot could hear. There were a few moments of background noise… Elliot could hear the Assistant Director's voice, and then he heard Porter, as clear as if he were in the car with them: 'Did you remember to pick up Elliot's razors, Olivia…? The 'Schick Hydro 5…?' You better give him a fond farewell tonight,_ baby,_ 'cause startin' tomorrow you're _mine_—_all _mine. Who knows… he might not be gettin' you back.'

Elliot's intake of breath was audible. It wasn't just the words that Porter had uttered—it was the maliciousness with which he'd said them that set his teeth on edge while icy fingers of fear jabbed at his gut. Something told him there was more going on here than jealous rivalry—something a lot more serious than a pissing contest between himself and Porter. Elliot took the phone from Olivia's hand setting it on the dashboard, as he pulled her into his arms. She shuddered, and he held her close. "This is way off, Liv… There's something wrong—this is personal… How the hell would he know what kind of razors I use…?"

"That's just it, El—he wouldn't… Not unless he heard our phone conversation. Remember…? You asked me to pick them up for you."

"What are you saying, Olivia…? He tapped our phones? That's it!" he roared. "You're not going under with that lunatic."

Olivia pulled away, and leaned back against her seat, raking her hand through her hair. "Elliot, you don't get to make decisions like this for me. I know you love me, El—and god knows I love you…" She reached over and took his hand, soothingly running her thumb over his knuckles. "But we've got to remove our relationship from the equation. There's something really fucked up here, Elliot. I _know_ him… This isn't like him." She felt him tense as he pulled his hand away. "I'm not defending him, El… I'll never change my mind about him after the ruthless way he handled the Rojas case. And he's an arrogant prick—but he's not _this_ guy—he's not crass and petty… and he doesn't play games." Her voice grew quiet and she leaned wearily against her seat. "He's _more_ than professional… He sacrifices everything for the job, Elliot—_everything_."

Elliot reached over and drew her back into his arms, facing a reality he'd tried for years to avoid. He buried his face in her hair and whispered in her ear. "He sacrificed _you_, didn't he, Liv. That's why you stayed behind with him after Cragen and I escorted Terri out the back way—to confront him…" He tenderly placed his hands on her face and drew her eyes to his. "He hurt you—that's why you're still so angry with him."

Olivia lowered her eyes. "Yeah, he hurt me. But even if he hadn't I would never have pursued anything with him after that case." She lifted her eyes to his and reached up and traced his lips with her thumb, then cradled her hand on his face. Her voice was soft and her eyes were misty. "Besides, I would have missed out on this, El, and no one could ever have given me what I have with you—_certainly_ not Dean Porter." She kissed him sweetly then pulled away. "We've gotta figure this out before tomorrow."

Elliot kissed her forehead and leaned back in his seat. "Yeah… Let's go home and try to decide what to do." He put the key in the ignition and started the car. "What the hell is going on with him? D'you think he's usin' substances… pills—or something…?"

"I guess it's possible… but I really doubt it, El."

"At the very least he's had some kind of breakdown, then. And how the hell are we gonna make anyone else believe us? We're the new kids on the block, here—he appeared completely charming and cogent with everyone else he interacted with today." His anger boiled over and he pounded the dashboard with his fist, making Olivia jump. "Fuck! We don't even know who we can _trust_."

"Elliot, settle down." She reached over and placed her hand on his arm. "Let's not go home—not yet. Let's go pick up burner phones, and head to the precinct. We should call George…see if he'll meet us there. And I wanna take our phones to TARU… Have them checked for bugs."

Elliot looked over at her as a smile slowly enveloped his face. "There's my partner," he chuckled in delight. "God, I've missed _us_, Benson." He sat quietly for a moment contemplating their situation. "You know, there's no way he had access to our phones… But the phone company can install a court-ordered wiretap within minutes by entering the target number in its computers and transmitting the conversation over an encrypted broadband link to any FBI field office. He certainly would've had the means to do that."

Olivia shuddered at the thought of Dean Porter having access to her private conversations. "El, does the Bureau know we're living together?"

"Yeah… I knew we'd be crossing paths, and I didn't want there to be any problem with it—so I fully disclosed our relationship."

"Good. Do they know I still have my own place?"

"Hmm. I don't think so… Why?"

"We shouldn't go back to your place tonight, El. We can pick up our things, but we should stay at my place."

"Yeah, you're right… That's a good plan." He was lost in thought for a time. "You know… Cap's probably still at the precinct, and he might have some ideas… or resources, even."

"El, is there anyone at the Bureau you know well enough to trust?"

Elliot was quiet for a few minutes while he maneuvered in traffic. He pulled into a parking space just a short distance from RadioShack. "Come on. Let's get those phones." Olivia was standing on the sidewalk by the time he walked around the car, and she stepped into place beside him as they headed to the store, matching him stride for stride. "Frank Barrett… I trust Frank," he said. "I think we should give him a call, too."

Once back in the car, Elliot called Cragen on one of the burner phones… He was at the precinct, but so was most of the squad, since it was so early in the evening. After a brief discussion, it was decided they should meet elsewhere. A quick call was made to Huang and arrangements were finally made with everyone, including Frank, to meet at seven o'clock in Huang's office.

That gave Elliot and Olivia time to make a trip to One Police Plaza to visit the Technical Assistance Response Unit and have their phones checked for bugs, or chase evidence of a wiretap.

* * *

Olivia and Cragen waited in Huang's office while he and Elliot made a quick 'coffee' run. "What the hell…?" Don Cragen was incredulous. She'd played the recording for him, and he'd been as stunned and alarmed as she and Elliot… He was frightened for them—especially after the horror he'd suffered during the 'Delia' take down, and the corruption it revealed. "What is going on here…? I know there's been tension between you and Elliot and Porter, but this has to be more than that, Liv… What went on between the two of you, anyway?"

"Nothing, Don." She shook her head, looking miserable.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, indicating he knew better.

"Can we just wait 'til everyone's here…? I don't wanna go over this more than once, Don," she pleaded, distressed at the prospect of revealing something of her personal life. She stood to pace around the office, raking her hand through her hair.

"Yeah, of course, Liv…" He watched her with concerned eyes.

They both looked up when they heard voices. Elliot and Huang were striding toward the office, engaged in an animated discussion. "That doesn't make sense, Elliot… What would be the objective?"

"Who knows, George…? Does there have to be an objective—couldn't he just be crazy?"

Elliot handed a coffee to Don and a bottle of water to Olivia, and set the other beverages on the desk.

"Do we know when Agent Barrett will be here?" Don asked.

Elliot looked at his watch. "Should be here shortly..."

As though on cue, Frank Barrett knocked and walked through the door. "Did I hear my name…?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Frank, thank you for coming…" Elliot shook his hand, and gestured to Cragen. Frank, this is my old boss—and dear friend, Captain of the 16th Precinct, Donald Cragen. Cap, Special Agent Franklin Barrett." Both men shook hands.

Frank looked at Huang. "Doc, I'm glad they dragged you in on this. Good." He turned in Olivia's direction, a big smile on his face, and gave her a wink. "Olivia. I didn't read you wrong, lady—you're a whole lot more'n a pretty package; you get right in there and take the bull by the horns." He settled into the nearest chair, and everyone else quickly seated themselves. "Elliot, if you don't mind, I'd like to make a suggestion." Frank leaned forward in his chair, his forearms resting on his knees.

"Be my quest, Frank… What do you have in mind?"

"Well, the four of you know each other… Better'n any of you know me, anyway. How 'bout I tell you what I observed today—without any preconceived notions—and you tell me how much of it has bearing on the situation…?"

Elliot and Olivia exchanged glances. "What do you think...? Anybody object?" Elliot looked at Cragen and Huang.

Huang smiled. "I think it sounds brilliant."

"Okay." Frank sat back in his chair propping his left ankle on his right knee. "Seems to me, Detective Benson got a whole lotta unwanted attention today from a certain agent…" He turned his gaze on Olivia, and she could feel her cheeks turn pink. "She was gracious, and if someone hadn't been watching closely, they'da missed it… but she sure _wasn't_ happy. He was obnoxious—way past inappropriate; I'm sure he violated a half-dozen sexual harassment laws. No regard for her personal space: leanin' all over her, whisperin' in her ear…" He turned his attention to Elliot. "And if looks could kill, that sonofabitch'd be dead. I never saw anyone use such restraint; I swear I thought you were gonna stroke out, Stabler." He looked Elliot in the eye. "I'd say there's some history there…" He turned his gaze in Olivia's direction and raised an eyebrow. "…and I'm guessin' you might be the reason." He switched his focus to Huang. "For what it's worth, Doc, sendin' Olivia undercover with this particular agent doesn't sound like a smart idea to me."

Elliot started to speak, but Frank held up his hand. "No—there's more you need to hear that ties into this—it's what made me sit up and take notice; well, more'n I already was once I got an eyeful of Detective Benson." He glanced at Olivia with a wolfish grin. "Agent Porter's been master mindin' this case from the get go… He's the one claims to have intelligence placin' the unsub on Long Island, though I've yet to see proof of it. He set up the operation in Hempstead. He recruited Detective Benson. When there was talk of sendin' you an' Olivia under together he nearly had a conniption. An' after Doc vetoed it, he damn near broke his neck jumpin' in to replace you." He stopped talking and scrubbed his hand down over his five o'clock shadow, leaning forward in his chair. "I don't know what the hell he's playin' at, but somethin's about 180 degrees off. The whole thing's seemed peculiar to me from the beginnin'—ol' J. Edgar'd be spinnin' in his grave."

The room had grown quiet and Frank settled back in his chair. Elliot stood and paced for a moment and then leaned back against Huang's desk, bracing himself with his hands. He turned his attention to Olivia. "Liv, why don't you play the recording?" She looked up at him and nodded, and he smiled gently, knowing how hard this was for her.

Olivia gave Frank an appraising look as she lifted her phone from her purse. "You're very observant, Frank… I happen to have recorded one of those conversations." She retrieved the recording and handed the phone to Elliot. "Set it on the desk, El…"

As Porter's words played out, Olivia could hear Frank's intake of breath, and his quiet 'goddamn,' but her focus was on Huang. He was schooled in hiding his emotions, but when she saw a brief flash of alarm in his eyes, she knew she hadn't been over-reacting.

Once again, the room was quiet; Huang finally broke the silence. "How does he know what brand of razors Elliot uses?"

Elliot stood up and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Our phones were tapped… TARU is trying to narrow down the source. We think there's a possibility my place may be bugged, too, so they're gonna check it out. We're not staying there tonight."

The expressions around the room were grim; Huang turned his attention to Olivia. "This is a threat, Liv. Aimed at both you _and_ Elliot…" He paused a moment before addressing Frank. "We need to stall the op—for a day, at least—to investigate. I'm very concerned… I've known Dean Porter for a long time, and I've never observed this kind of behavior—or anything even suggestive of it."

Elliot paced… then settled back in his chair. "That's what Liv keeps tellin' me, too. What the fuck is goin' on with him…?"

Huang turned to face Olivia again, leaning closer to her. "Is it possible he's trying to force you to pull out—warn you off…?"

Before Olivia could respond, Frank spoke up. "I thought about that, Doc, but why in hell would he have bothered to recruit her in the first place…?"

Everyone agreed—it was unlikely and made no sense.

"Liv, I know this is uncomfortable for you, and I apologize… But we need to know what your history is with Dean Porter. How personal is this? Have you had a romantic—or physical relationship with him?"

Color flooded her face and she focused her eyes on the floor. Elliot came to stand behind her reaching down to gently rest a hand on her shoulder. She slowly raised her eyes to Huang. "No. I've never had either…. But we were attracted to each other—interested. We just never pursued it."

"Was that _his_ decision…? Or yours?"

"I guess you could say it was mutual."

"Did you ever do anything to make him angry?"

Olivia looked up at Elliot before answering. "It was during a case…"

Cragen interrupted. "After we realized Porter's role in the Rojas case, we used Olivia to lure him to her apartment so we could tap into his phone and upload some software that would access his information. She invited him for a romantic dinner." Cragen cleared his throat. "She kept him, uh… distracted—while Morales and Elliot worked from her bedroom. It was a set-up so we could leak information to him and he in turn would lead us to Terri."

"Whoa." Frank's eyebrows shot up, as he stared at Olivia and Elliot. "That could piss a guy off!"

"Except he understood it was business—he'd already double-crossed us; he had our phones at the precinct bugged." Elliot stood up and paced around the room again, rubbing his hands on the back of his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension there. He turned to face Frank and Huang. "And he _risked_ Olivia's life bringing down a suspect—someone he directed us to, _knowing_ he wasn't guilty—at least not of the crime we were investigating. For Porter, it was _all in the_ _line of duty_," he said, unable to keep the disgust from his voice.

"Why does he have such a 'hard-on' for you, Stabler…?" Frank watched him intently until he stopped pacing.

Elliot looked a little sheepish and glanced at Olivia. "I guess it might have something to do with the fact that I always acted like a jealous prick whenever he was sniffin' around Liv," he admitted. "I might have been sorta responsible for things never goin' anywhere in the romantic department for them. I kinda warned him off." He mumbled the last few words, stealing a quick glance at Olivia.

"I can see how that could happen," Frank chuckled, sending an appreciative glance Olivia's way. "She _was_ your partner… You were lookin' out for her."

"Yeah. Right," Olivia scoffed, shooting daggers at both Elliot and Frank.

Cragen's frustration turned to agitation, and he looked intently at Huang and Frank. "Well I'd like to find out what in the hell is goin' on here… I'm told my best detective has been recruited by the goddamned FBI and I've got no say in it, and now we find out she and one of their own agents are being _bugged_—probably by another agent! And I'm supposed to just stand by?"

"Don, I'm afraid it's a lot more complicated than it appears… I think there are a lot of layers to this, and I suspect it goes deep. But one thing is clear: Someone's being set up… I'm just not so sure it's Liv and Elliot—although I suspect they're using Liv as bait."

"Well, it's not gonna work, 'cause she's not goin' under." Elliot had grown eerily calm, and he'd locked his eyes on Olivia's.

Her look was deadly; this was the final straw. She flung herself out of her chair and paced the room, raking her fingers through her hair. She needed to calm down before she strangled Elliot. After a moment she approached him. "Elliot, we're going to figure this out, and we'll get the support I need—but I _am_ doing this." She held his gaze without wavering. "You'll be there; we'll do it together, El—just like we used to."

"I'd say the lady's spoken, Stabler," Frank chortled, breaking the tension in the room. "So let's get down to business and figure it out."

* * *

They ordered takeout and worked through dinner—and six hours later they'd put a plan in place. Huang used his influence with the Assistant Director convincing her he had some concerns, telling her he needed to assess each of the agents before putting them under—managing to buy twenty-four hours.

Frank's position as handler gave him comprehensive knowledge of the operation—and free rein: He'd set up his own headquarters at the guest house on the Crestview property, where he'd be co-ordinating the operation, and monitoring the house and grounds; his cover would be groundskeeper and head of security for the 'Randolphs…' But there was a cottage on the property, too—out of sight and range of the big house or the guest house. They put the wheels in motion for both he and Elliot to set up their own separate surveillance from there.

Cragen pulled some strings and called in a few chits… He arranged to have a tech from TARU meet Frank and Elliot on the grounds. Since TARU provided assistance to other City, State and Federal agencies, it wouldn't be a stretch for them to assist the FBI on Long Island. The FBI had already installed high-tech equipment, but TARU found other equipment in the Master Suite that had clearly not been placed by the FBI. They assumed it had been installed by whoever had tapped Elliot's and Olivia's phones, and must have been done _after _the FBI's equipment had been put in place; otherwise it would have been detected. A decision was made to leave it, knowing that to do otherwise would tip their hand.

The TARU tech would come back the next day and set up equipment in the cottage specifically for Frank and Elliot, allowing them to monitor the house and grounds using the FBI equipment without detection.

In the meantime, Olivia, Cragen and Huang went over the information they'd been given from the previous crime scenes, researching them on-line, and making phone calls to local law enforcement in each location to further validate the info they'd received. Everything appeared to match the information they'd been given.

It was agreed not to divulge anything to anyone else on the team, including Assistant Director Putnam—not knowing who else might be involved. There were a few loose ends that would need to be tied up the next day, but they agreed they should try to salvage the rest of the night for some much-needed sleep.

By the time they headed to Olivia's apartment, Elliot was feeling a little better about her involvement in the case. They'd made a quick run to his place to grab whatever they'd need for tomorrow, neither of them speaking in case bugs _had_ been planted there. He looked over at her. She'd been quiet for the past hour and he figured it was because she was worn out, but he was a little worried it might have something to do with his admission about warning Porter off … He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "Hey—you okay…?"

She leaned her head back against the seat. "Hmm… That feels good." She turned to look at him. "I'm just tired."

"You sure you're not mad at me…? 'Cause you found out I ran Porter off I mean…?"

She watched him for a moment, enjoying his discomfiture—finally letting him off the hook. "Nah... I figured as much. It's not like he was the first potential boyfriend you drove away," she smirked.

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading! Chapter 5 will be uploaded on Sunday.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews... They are much appreciated!**

**Chapter 5**

**Friday, November 30****th**

Morning came much too soon. In spite of Elliot's declaration—and due to no lack of desire on his part—his intention to make love to her 'all night long' just didn't happen. They both fell into an exhausted post-coital sleep—and never woke until the alarm buzzed at seven o'clock—giving them a grand total of four uninterrupted hours. Elliot rolled over knowing Olivia needed to prepare for the photo shoot, and would need a little extra time getting ready.

Olivia groggily opened her eyes, trying to remember why she was in her apartment. She sat up and reality cleared the fog away, causing her to groan. Leaning over, she placed a kiss on Elliot's shoulder before getting out of bed… He mumbled something unintelligible, bringing a smile to her face as she stumbled to the bathroom.

She reached in and turned on the shower, then brushed her teeth while she waited for the water to get hot. Stepping in, she adjusted the flow and the temperature, recalling why she liked this shower better than the one in Elliot's apartment. She moved under the steamy flow and leaned her head back, allowing the water to cascade down over her face, streaming into her long strands of auburn hair—helping to wake her up. She squeezed a small amount of shampoo into her palm, and massaged it into her hair and scalp, working it into a luxurious lather. After thoroughly rinsing it away, she poured lavender gel onto a loofah, gently scrubbing her body as she tried to remember exactly where she'd placed the photos of her and Elliot from the time they'd gone undercover as a married couple; she figured they could photo-shop Porter into them—although the very thought made her queasy. She was pretty sure she hadn't taken them to Elliot's place when she'd moved, so they should still be here.

She was so lost in thought she didn't hear the bathroom door open… She did hear the toilet flush and the unmistakable sound of Elliot brushing his teeth, but wasn't expecting him to pull the curtain open and step into the shower, and she gave a startled gasp.

"Am I that frightening in the morning, baby…?" He pulled her into his arms, grinning down at her as he maneuvered their bodies until they were standing under the flowing water. The warm water sluicing over her, and the hard, naked plains of Elliot's body pressing into her soft curves was all it took to drive every other thought from her head.

"Oh, god, Elliot…" she groaned, "…you're _glorious_ in the morning—especially when you're naked and wet." She looked up at him from under the fringe of her lashes, running her hands over his massive chest, and grinding her hips against his semi-erection.

He leaned down taking possession of her lips, and kissed her breathless. Turning her around, he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close against him. He pushed her sopping hair to one side, giving him access to her neck and lowered his lips, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh there—causing her to curse and squirm against him.

"Jesus, Elliot—oh, fuck… You make me need you so much," she whimpered.

He grinned and thrust against her curvaceous ass, eliciting a moan that went straight to his now rock hard cock. Reaching down, he slid a hand between her legs, gently inserting a finger, and she eagerly ground herself against him**, **moaning softly. "Ooh, baby—you are sooo ready," he gasped, placing a hand over each of hers and guiding them to a bar attachment on the shower wall, as he bent her over. He nudged her legs apart with his knees, removing his hands from hers to bring them to her breasts—feeling a taut nipple against each palm. "God, Olivia, you fuckin' turn me on, baby," he growled. He gently kneaded her breasts with one hand and reached down to his throbbing cock with the other, bending his knees just a bit to get the right angle, and placed it at her entrance. He knew this was a position she loved, and he grasped her hips as he slowly pushed into her, giving her time to adjust to him.

She hissed as he entered her… She loved when he took her from behind, hitting places that no other position allowed, and she groaned deep in her throat as he started to move inside her. Gripping the bar, she braced herself to gain better leverage… She spread her legs further and bucked against him—taking him deeper as he ground into her, and increased his rhythm. "Oh, God… Elliot! Don't stop, babe, please don't stop… So, so good," she moaned, pushing back harder to meet his every thrust.

It didn't take long before he was close and he knew neither of them would last. He gripped her hips, his fingers leaving marks on her skin, and dragged her back into him a little tighter, filling her more completely… He rocked into her hard and fast, grunting with the effort.

Without his mouth to muffle her, her cries went unchecked as he continued to pummel into her—but she was past caring who she might wake this morning. "Fuck, El—so close…. Oh god, Elliot..." She matched his thrusts as he increased his rhythm. He released his grip on one of her hips to reach around her and find her clit. It took only a few swipes and she came undone, her back arching into him, holding his cock in a stranglehold with her velvet walls. Her cry was guttural, and his name never sounded so sexy. It was all he needed and he pushed through the velvet vice, one, two, three more times, shooting his hot cum into her as he spiraled out of control. He felt his knees go weak, and reached out to brace himself against the tile with one arm, while holding Olivia securely with the other.

* * *

Olivia raced to Conference Room A where the photo shoot had been set up. She was running late, thanks to her unexpected romp in the shower with Elliot—which she refused to feel guilty about: God help her, she couldn't resist the man; sex with him was the best thing she'd ever experienced—and only getting better! They'd driven in together so Elliot and Frank could head out to Hempstead, taking advantage of the time Porter would be tied up with the photo shoot, and the other agents would be in meetings with Huang. Everyone had received notification from Assistant Director Putnam concerning the change in plans and been given the scheduled time for their appointments with him.

Olivia had spent the short drive dreading her interactions with Dean Porter; knowing she had to somehow bury her feelings and not allow him to goad her. She dashed through the door and collided with him, knocking the packet of photos she'd brought, from her hand—scattering them all over the floor. He grabbed her arms to keep her from losing her balance, and pulled her into his chest, his smirk in place. "Nice you could join us, Benson… Where the hell have you been?"

She wrenched herself free, and managed _not_ to deck him; after all, _she'd _run into _him_. She picked up the scattered photos and tucked them back into the folder. Porter, under the guise of being helpful, had picked up a few—but mostly stood ogling her ass while she was bending over. He started to hand the few he'd picked up to her, but pulled them away as she reached for them. Scowling, he pointed to the 'faut wedding' picture of her and Elliot. "Why the hell did you bring this…?" he demanded.

"Because it'll be easier to superimpose a picture of you onto this one, than it would be to start from scratch with a new one. We need to look younger in the wedding photos."

"Oh, yeah—of course..." He leered down at her. "Does that mean I don't get to kiss the blushing bride…?"

"That's exactly what it means, you ass," she hissed as she stepped around him. She definitely wasn't getting off to a good start—so much for not letting him _goad_ her.

He grabbed her arm before she was clear of him and swung her around, nearly knocking the photos to the floor again. "Porter, take your hands off me," she growled, "…or I swear to god I'll kick your ass right here, and slap you with a sexual harassment suit so fast it'll make your head spin." The look in her eye told him she was deadly serious, and he released her.

Before she walked away, he stepped in front of her once more, blocking her path. "Olivia, I know you're not happy about this, but you better work on an attitude adjustment if we hope to make this work: This sting depends on you and me _overtly_ appearing to be a happy, loving couple. That means I _will_ be touching you—probably even _kissing_ you. So this aversion you have to me—you better get over it... soon." He stepped out of her way and she stomped off, so pissed at him she thought she might spontaneously combust—mostly because she knew what he'd said was true.

Olivia was changing outfits—again. This time, casual—suitable for sailing... yachting, to be exact: The white pullover top with a button-up open collar had short sleeves trimmed in black, and the black skirt was short and close-fitting, sporting pockets and a white belt. The shoes were flats, white and very girly in spite of their rubber-grip soles. She had a white hooded cardigan tied around her waist, and sun-glasses perched on her head, holding her long locks away from her face. The nautical watch on her arm completed the look. She approached the staging area, where Porter was apparently giving directives to the photographer.

The backdrop was appropriate for a yachting scene, and Porter was dressed in an outfit that complimented hers—matching shirt, but white, loose-fitting knee-length shorts—with lots of pockets and a black belt—white tennis shoes, no socks, and the prerequisite sunglasses. He came over to stand beside her, looking her up and down. "Hell, you can make anything look classy… You'll have no problem fitting in with this crowd." She didn't bother to respond, and for the hundredth time just wished this would be over.

The 'twenty-something' guy with the camera waved them over. "Okay—just a couple more... We need one of you kissing—or about to kiss. We're supposed to make it look like you're in love, and I'm pretty sure we haven't pulled that off yet," he muttered, giving a sideways glance at Olivia.

Olivia was tired of fighting this battle. After the way their morning had started she'd worked hard to be cooperative and not let him get to her—and for the most part she'd succeeded… But this would push all her buttons. She tried to concentrate on some of the relaxation techniques she'd learned in therapy, wishing she could just shut her brain down and go with it. 'Twenty-something' was talking to them, and she forced herself to tune in.

"Okay… Agent Porter, you stand over here… We want the fan to hit Detective Benson so it blows her hair up and off her shoulders, like it's a breezy day. Face each other… That's right. Now place your hands down here—on her hips, and look down at her." Porter was doing his best to comply, and Olivia was doing her best not to smack him when he placed his hands where he'd been directed.

"Now, Detective Benson… Place your hands on his waist, and stand on your toes—like you're trying to reach up and kiss him… Look into his eyes, and for God's sake—smile."

She considered decking them both, and if she'd thought it would have gotten her out of the goddamned photo shoot she'd have done it in a heartbeat; but the sad truth was—it wouldn't. So she placed her hands on either side of his waist, stood on her tiptoes, smiled up at him, and didn't flinch when he brought his lips within inches of hers. The fan roared to life and blew her hair in the desired direction, the camera clicked, and finally it was over. She thought.

"And _one_ more... Hold your positions, but this time go for the kiss." Porter grinned, and she had a sneaking suspicion this was his doing. Fuck him! She just wanted to get this over with, and if this was the price she had to pay, so be it. But she'd be damned if she'd let him think it bothered her. So when he lowered his lips to hers, she closed her eyes and tried to pretend he was Elliot. Except he didn't smell or feel or taste like Elliot... And he sure as hell didn't kiss like Elliot. And suddenly she was smiling—because, thank god, he _wasn't _Elliot!

Porter looked down at her, misreading her sudden good humor. "You liked that…huh? Maybe that's where we should've started yesterday…" he smirked, tightening his grip on her hips, and lowering his head to move in on her lips again.

"You jackass, let go of me," she hissed, trying to not draw the attention of the photographer. "So help me, Porter—you don't wanna go there with me: Unless you want me to make a scene right now that will bring half the agents in this building running with their guns drawn—you better back the hell off."

He dropped his hands from her hips and stepped away so fast she nearly lost her balance, but managed to recover before she embarrassed herself and landed on her ass.

'Twenty-something' looked up from whatever he'd been doing, a question in his eyes. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine…" she assured him. "…just lost my balance. Are we done?"

"Yep… that should do it. I'll have these ready in an hour, and delivered to 'props.'"

"Thank you." Olivia headed to the dressing area to change, hoping to god she'd be able to find Elliot in time to grab some lunch.

Porter was standing off to the side, keeping his distance after her warning. He spoke as she drew close to him. "We need to meet with the props people out at Crestview later this afternoon." His voice was cold, and his face distant.

Without breaking her stride, she responded to him. "Okay… let me know what time, and I'll meet you there," she called back over her shoulder."

* * *

"So how'd it go with the photo shoot?" They sat at a small table in the same café they'd eaten in yesterday, and Elliot watched her moving her salad around with her fork, neglecting to actually bring any of it to her mouth. She appeared to be lost in thought, and he was concerned—as he always was—when she seemed to be shutting him out. "Hey, baby…" He reached for her hand. "Talk to me."

She jerked her head up as if coming out of a daze. "I'm sorry, El." She smiled, taking his hand in hers. "I'm just thinking about this afternoon… I've gotta meet Porter and the 'props' people at the house in Hempstead—get acquainted with the layout—make sure everything we need is there." She sighed, and nervously chewed on her lower lip. "I've got to get over my aversion to him, Elliot, or we'll never pull this off. We had to do a kissing scene for the photo shoot this morning, and I felt like crawling out of my skin."

Elliot tensed and pulled his hand away. He knew he had to be objective about this… this was hard enough for her—she didn't need him acting like a jealous asshole. "Why the hell would they need a picture of you kissing…? You and I never had to when we were having our 'married' photo shoot… And I bet you would've _liked _kissing me," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, you think so, Stabler?" She grinned, reaching to take his hand again—grateful he understood how tough this was for her. "Bet you couldn't have stopped at just one," she teased, smiling into his eyes.

"I know I couldn't have, Benson—wouldn't even have tried." He tugged on her hand, pulling her over to him, demonstrating his point. "What time do you need to meet him this afternoon?" he asked as he relinquished her lips.

"I'm still waiting to hear from him… Hey, did Morales find any bugs at your place, El…? There's so much going on I nearly forgot about it," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I know… And, no, thankfully he didn't." He lowered his eyes and his voice grew quiet. "I would've had a really tough time with that, Liv. I mean, God, Eli's there half the time…"

She reached to touch his cheek, encouraging him to meet her eyes. "I know, babe… That's where my thoughts went, too."

He smiled appreciatively at her, realizing that he was not alone—not with this woman by his side: She was a partner in every sense of the word. He reached up to cradle the hand she held to his cheek, looking into her eyes. "I love you, Olivia… so much, baby."

"Yeah… Me, too," she said softly. She retrieved her hand and settled back in her chair. "What's going on for you this afternoon?"

"I've got some things to wrap up here with Frank. We were actually at the big house this morning. God, its unbelievable there—hard to imagine that kind of wealth… I kinda wish we were gonna be there together," he said, glancing at her wistfully. "One thing's for certain… you'll be able to stay out of each other's way."

"What time will you and Frank be wrapping up today?"

"I'm not sure, but hopefully by five o'clock, so we can all get together and go over everything. I've gotta take a break around 3:00 'cause I'm meetin' with George—he wants to check in with me… I think he's worried I'm gonna lose it with Porter," he admitted, looking a little chagrinned.

"Yeah. I knew that was coming. He asked me how I thought you'd handle it, and I told him he should ask you." Elliot raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment, and she waited a moment before pursuing it. "Are you…? Gonna lose it with Porter, I mean?" She tried to catch his eye, but he ducked his head, avoiding her.

When he looked back up, he made eye contact and leaned in a little closer. "It's different now, Liv. I know how much you love me, baby, and I know how much even being around him bothers you—so there's no jealousy this time." He broke his contact for a moment then forced his eyes back to hers. "But I'm worried about you, Olivia… If he hurts you, or causes you to be hurt—all bets are off. That's why it's good we're not going in together… I'll be able to watch you better—have more autonomy—more freedom to move around. And Frank's a godsend. I don't know what you two talked about the first time you got together, but you impressed the hell out of him." He gave a little smirk and leaned in closer. "I'm beginning to wonder if he's the one I should be jealous of…"

"Believe me, Stabler, if he was a little younger…" Olivia gave him a saucy grin and leaned over to kiss his lips, just as her cell phone gave a high-pitched chirp, startling them both. "Ugh… It's Porter."

"How do you know…?" Elliot watched the irritated expression on her face with amusement as she picked up her phone.

"Because I scrolled through the menu until I found the most annoying ringtone I could find, and assigned it to him," she said, rolling her eyes as she prepared to answer. "Benson. Okay… I'll meet you there." She put her phone back on the table. "We have to be at the house in an hour, and since it takes almost that long to get there, I better head out now."

"Let's plan to meet around five o'clock, unless you find out you'll need more time… Then we can figure out what we need to do from there." He stood up and threw a few bills on the table, and they walked out to the crowded sidewalk. "Come on, I'll walk you to the car." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him as they walked. "I wanna spend time with you tonight, baby… We don't know when we'll be together again."

"Yeah, believe me… I want that too, El."

**TBC**

**Thanks for reading! Chapter 6 will be posted on Wednesday...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much to my faithful reviewers, and the few new folks who have left some kind words... It is much appreciated, since this is a whole different venue than my first two stories. Thank you all for reading!**

**Chapter 6**

Olivia was given the grand tour of the mansion she'd be calling home for the next few days or weeks. All the photos of her and Porter had been framed and placed strategically in the rooms in which they were needed. Porter would set himself up in a bedroom and ensuite on the third floor, but most of his clothing and personal effects would be kept in the bedroom and bathroom they'd be expected to share in the Master Suite—the bedroom Olivia would occupy.

The Master Suite took up a significant portion of the second floor, and included a sitting area, larger than most living rooms, and featuring a fireplace. The ensuite was complete with 'his' and 'her' bathrooms, Jacuzzi, and huge walk-in closets full of clothes for both of them. There was a balcony off the bedroom, with steps leading to the ground. The bedroom itself featured the biggest canopy bed Olivia had ever seen. The bed and matching furniture were custom-built of cherry—the rich wood polished to a soft sheen. The bedding and curtains were burgundies, creams, and browns… Olivia would've expected the color scheme to make it look more masculine, but delicate embroidering and the use of a flower motif managed to strike a perfect balance. She'd allowed herself to imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like to share it all with Elliot—under different circumstances, but had been pulled rudely back to reality when she'd heard Porter calling her name.

"Hey… Have you seen the cars? I've got the keys right here." They'd made a quick trip to the garage, accessed by a covered walkway off the far side of the state-of-the-art kitchen. The red BMW convertible and silver Rolls Royce sitting in the four-car garage were nothing, if not clichéd… Did the FBI have no imagination at all? Not that she was complaining. She'd already claimed the BMW, and told Porter as much. He'd grinned and good-naturedly handed over the keys, once again causing Olivia to wonder if she'd been overreacting to him in the past few days—but then she'd remembered the conversation she'd recorded and felt the familiar unease snake its way up her spine.

The next evening would be the first of the country club's many holiday soirees. Frank and Elliot would be observing the event on a closed circuit television monitoring system from the security office at the club, while 'Jason and Jennifer Randolph' made their debut appearance… Olivia would need the appropriate attire.

She spent the better part of the afternoon with the wardrobe techs. She'd been fitted with several gowns for the upcoming events and her closet was full of the appropriate clothing for her role. She hadn't needed to have a lot of interaction with Porter, and because they'd traveled separately, she felt no qualms about leaving when the 'wardrobe gurus' were done with her. She'd checked in just long enough to tell him she was leaving and would see him in the morning. Not waiting for any response from him, she'd let herself out the front door, climbed into her car, and driven away.

* * *

She'd heard from Elliot earlier. Plans had been made to meet with Huang and Frank at five, and now she was sitting in Huang's office, while he finished up some paperwork; Elliot and Frank were running a little late. Once they joined them, they'd go over the events of the day and make their final preparations; they were hoping to wrap up early enough for everyone to salvage a part of their evening.

Huang stood up and came around his desk. "I'm really glad to have a few minutes alone with you, Liv."

"Why, George…? What's up?"

He pulled a chair closer to hers and sat down. "I'm concerned about how difficult it will be for you to play this role with Porter. I wasn't aware of your history…"

"We don't have a history, George. I told you—we didn't…"

"I know that, Liv. But there's unfinished business between you… I sense you're carrying a lot of anger toward him, Olivia—and I expect you feel betrayed by him." She started to protest, but Huang cut her off. "Olivia, please listen… I talked with Dean today—he told me what happened the last time you were together. He indicated his feelings for you were a lot stronger than—well, maybe either of you realized at the time; he apparently really cared for you, Liv."

Olivia leaned against the chair back, raking her fingers through her hair. "I don't wanna hear this, George…" Before he could respond, she spoke again—so softly Huang found himself leaning forward to catch it. "What did he say…?"

"I can't divulge the conversation, Liv—it's privileged… But I can give you the gist of it. You obviously know what transpired between the two of you the last time you were together. What you don't know is what was at stake—and what it cost him to walk away from you. His biggest concern now is that you feel so much animosity towards him you can't get beyond it to carry out this sting."

Olivia leaned forward in her chair, anger sparking in her eyes. "It's not our past that's the problem George… I could have gotten beyond that to get the job done! You know me, for god's sake… It's his _current_ behavior that's the problem!"

"I know that, Liv… And I have complete confidence in you. I'm not questioning your ability to do this, but it's gonna be harder for you than I realized, especially now—not knowing what's really going on with him—or if you can trust him."

"Why the hell is he provoking me, George? The innuendo… the inappropriate remarks, and threats—what the hell is that all about?" She stood up to pace the room.

"If I had to guess—and believe me, this is only speculation: Maybe he wants to piss you off enough for you to confront him—have it out, so you can clear the air before you go under. Try to give him the benefit of the doubt. You said it yourself, Olivia… He's a consummate professional—he lives for the job."

She stopped pacing and sank back into her chair. "You think he's okay." It was a statement—not a question. "You don't think he's up to something… _diabolical_?" she asked, grinning self-consciously at her use of the overly-dramatic word.

"I wish I could give you a 'qualified' yes on that, Liv… but I can't. There's still the evidence that he tapped your phones—or at least had access to your conversations. And we don't know who planted the surveillance cameras; I think _something's _going on, and I suspect Porter is aware of it—but I don't know that he's on the _wrong_ side of it."

She sat for a few moments contemplating his words. "I think you're right," she whispered. "And this _will_ make a difference. Thank you." She hesitated before raising her eyes to his one more time, and he noted the moisture there. "George…? You need to know I'm good with how things played out. I'm so happy with Elliot… I could never love _anyone_ the way I love him."

Huang's smile indicated he was already well aware of that fact. Hearing voices, he stood while Olivia composed herself, and Elliot and Frank strolled in bearing coffees and bottled water, ready to fill them in on their day.

They decided to settle in Huang's inner office where he conducted his therapy sessions… It was more comfortable there, and they were all weary after their long day. Frank and Huang sat in matching wingback chairs, facing the couch. Olivia had slipped off her shoes and sat in one corner of the couch, her feet tucked under her, and Elliot sat beside her.

TARU tech Ruben Morales had completed the installment of the electronic equipment in the cottage so Elliot and Frank could privately monitor the house and grounds, and Frank went over some of the finer points with Olivia. After explaining the set up, he told her the areas she should avoid. "We figured you'd be in the Master Suite, so we checked the bedroom and ensuite with a fine tooth comb. Morales found surveillance equipment there last night—six cameras, to be exact—and he couldn't disable them without tipping our hand. But he went back this morning and angled three of them differently." He looked over at her, giving a meaningful look. "Away from the bed and showers—just enough to miss the intended targets…"

Elliot watched her as Frank talked. She took a deep breath and glanced at him before responding to Frank's information. "Okay… Exactly where are they angled now?"

Frank grinned at Elliot. "You told me that'd be her first question…Guess you know her pretty well, Stabler."

Olivia raised one eyebrow and shot a pointed look at Elliot, and then at Frank. "You two are spending way too much time together," she scoffed, but softened it with a grin, and shook her head. "Now how about answering my question…"

Frank chuckled and pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket, unfolding it as he sauntered over to her. He knelt down beside her and spread it out on the arm of the couch, so she could see the diagram on it. "These are the areas you should avoid…. Well, not avoid—just don't be in any stage of undress." He made an apologetic gesture. "It's just—we can't change too much without making whoever's behind this suspicious… And they'd expect you to be in that bedroom. One camera's embedded in the clock radio on that bedside stand… You can easily cover that and make it look accidental by placing something in front of it—like a book, or a piece of clothing—and just leave it there. You're gonna have to spend some time with Porter in there, too—to keep it real: When you're with him, you're gonna wanna be within camera range." He glanced at her ruefully, trying to gauge her reaction.

She groaned, raking her hand through her hair. "I expected that would be the case," she sighed. "What about the other cameras…? Do I need to avoid them, too?" She struggled to remain detached—all business, but her face betrayed her.

Frank stood and walked over to Huang's desk, helping himself to a bottle of water. "No, those cameras were installed by the FBI. They're security cameras… They in no way will impinge on your privacy," he assured her. He held her gaze for a moment, making sure she understood. "They're located at all entrances and exits, and along the hallways. There are more outside, covering the grounds. Morales just set it up so me and Elliot can observe 'em from the cottage—without lettin' the FBI know about our little 'side' project. I'll have the same visuals on the monitors at the guest house."

Her relief was palpable. "Okay. But I have a question. If, or _when_, the 'unsub' takes the bait, won't the surveillance equipment already in place make him suspicious?"

Elliot glanced at Frank. "I told you." He turned to Olivia, grinning, as she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Liv… We thought about that. There's no concern about the_ security _surveillance equipment—although he'll probably disable it; but it wouldn't be unexpected that a place like this would have that kind of protection."

Frank added his two cents: "But the other equipment—that's a whole different ballgame: If he didn't put it there—and I don't see how he could've, since he doesn't even know who he's targetin' yet—it's gonna make him nervous."

"So how do you plan to problem-solve it…?" Huang asked.

"We don't know who the hell we're looking for yet—so we're gonna have to wait and see… If we figure out this op is actually about the 'Country Club Murders' and we stumble across the 'unsub' we'll remove 'em before he strikes. But if this is somethin' else…" Frank glanced at Olivia, unable to mask the concern in his eyes. "…then I guess we leave 'em in place. In that case, I'm not sure what the hell we'll be dealing with…"

"But I'd say you've got a sneaking suspicion about it, Barrett." Olivia's voice and use of his last name told him she wasn't to be trifled with and he'd better tell her what was on his mind.

Frank leaned against the desk, taking a swig from his bottle of water. He glanced in Elliot's direction, but it was clear he was gonna have to field this one on his own. "Olivia, I've looked at this eight ways from Sunday, and I can't find any way to make this not about _you_."

Her eyes widened in alarm, and Elliot's first inclination was to reach for her and pull her into his arms… But he stopped himself, knowing how pissed she'd be. "What do you mean, Frank…? How the hell could this be about _me_?"

Frank scrubbed a hand down over his face and dropped back into his chair. He leaned forward, drawing her eyes to his. "The whole thing feels forced—contrived… More like a stage is bein' set, than a sting. It seems that someone's gone to an awful lotta trouble to make sure you're gonna be in this house, posin' as Jennifer Randolph. Surveillance cameras were set up in the Master Suite—the very bedroom and shower you'd be directed to occupy. Your phone was tapped. And Porter—well, who the hell _knows_ what's goin' on with him!"

Olivia pulled her eyes from Frank's and turned to Elliot. "I suppose this is the conclusion you've reached, too, since the two of you seem to be sharing a brain."

He grinned as he angled himself so he was facing her. "Liv, nothing else makes sense here. We can't find any evidence that the intel claiming the Hempstead Country Club is the next target of our unsub, is legitimate. By all accounts, anyone in charge of this op wouldn't be sending the decoy couple undercover, until they actually had their sights on someone—and we can't find a scrap of evidence that that person exists. It just doesn't feel right."

"Where's Porter fit in all this…?"

Frank gave a harsh laugh… "Wish to Christ I knew—that there's the million dollar question, Benson. That son-of-a bitch either set the whole damn thing up, or he knows what the hell's goin' down. Might be he's the 'good guy'—wouldn't wanna bank on it though."

Huang had been taking it all in, and now he stood, walking over to his desk and perching on the edge. "What's the game plan?"

Elliot rose from the couch and strode to the window, gazing out at the nighttime city lights, his hands in his pockets—his jaw clenched tighter than was healthy. Suddenly he turned to face Huang and spoke just above a whisper. "Keep the woman I love safe." He focused his gaze on Olivia and she raised her eyes to his.

"I'll be fine, Elliot." Her eyes told a different story.

Frank glanced at Elliot, and then directed his attention to Olivia. "We added strong locks to your bedroom suite, by the way—so you can lock yourself in at night. And we installed a new security alarm in there—and on the French doors leading out to the balcony..." His face broke into a grin and he glanced in Elliot's direction. "You wanna tell her—or should I, Stabler?"

Elliot came over to sit in the chair Huang had vacated. He pulled it closer to Olivia and sat leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees, with his hands clasped between them.

"What have you two done…?" Her face registered alarm, with just a hint of amusement—noting this was the stance he took when there was something he found difficult to talk about.

"It's something good, Liv," he assured her, a smile finally reaching his eyes and lightening the mood. "We've set it up so you and I can have some time together." He watched her—not quite sure how she'd view this information, she was so damned independent. Since she wasn't saying anything, he continued. "There are steps outside leading up to the Master Suite balcony, off the bedroom—and I have the security code… And you have a secure lock on the bedroom door."

Olivia was looking at him like he'd suddenly sprouted horns. "You mean you've arranged for us to have 'booty calls' while I'm undercover for the FBI—as a married woman? Can I assume this _hasn't_ been sanctioned by the Assistant Director…?"

Huang grinned and spoke up. "Liv, it's not like that… This is legitimate: It gives us the opportunity to check in with you—to exchange information. And give you added protection."

Olivia leaned back into her corner of the couch and looked over at Elliot, a smirk lurking at the corners of her mouth. "So this will just be a 'sharing of information,' huh…?" she said, quirking a brow, and shooting a look in Frank's direction. Can I assume Elliot'll be the only one with the code, or can I expect to have both of you come calling in the middle of the night?" Frank's eyes lit up and his face cracked in a big grin—but he assured her Elliot would be her only night visitor.

Huang continued. "We have to assume we can't trust Porter, Liv, so we're forced to work around him… Find another way to connect with you—and protect you." Concern was obvious on his face for the briefest of moments, quickly replaced with the serene countenance of a therapist—the visage he'd become so adept at showing the world. "We don't know what Porter's motivation is right now. I met with him today… But because I couldn't ask him anything that might tip _our_ hand, I didn't learn much."

Frank spoke up, his face etched with worry and regret as he addressed Olivia. "I wish I could tell you what the hell's goin' on, Olivia." He looked away. "Christ, we don't even know who we're lookin' for: could be the unsub; could be Porter—he's acting so goddamned squirrelly; or could be somebody tryin' to set Porter up. Or… could be none of the above. Nothin' about this whole fuckin' mess makes any sense."

He drew his hand down over his face, and turned back to face her. "Okay, now I'm gonna talk to you like your handler, Benson. First and foremost: Don't confront him! Until we know differently, we gotta play this by the book—assume Porter's on our team, and we're gunnin' for the unsub. I don't care how much he pisses you off, Olivia—you gotta give it a hundred and ten percent. If he needs to get physical with you—_and you know what I mean_—let him. He's a good agent—he's got good reflexes and good instincts. As much as it pains me, trust his lead. I'll keep Stabler in check…" He flashed a grin at her, but sobered quickly. He nodded in Elliot's direction. "You've got a good man there. And the rest of us are gonna make damn sure you're covered, pretty lady."

* * *

"You know you don't have to do this, Olivia… It's not too late to pull out." Elliot held her, whispering in her ear. He was terrified for her—even though they'd created tighter security for her, and he had greater access to her; he was terrified. The operation would begin in a few short hours, but for now they took sustenance from each other. Their lovemaking had ranged from desperate to sweet—and covered everything in between; they lay recovering in each other's arms.

She stirred. "You know I'm not gonna do that, El." She looked up at him, her eyes adoring him. "You'll be there… I'll be okay." She placed kisses on his chest and he drew her closer.

"Yeah." He didn't sound convinced, but he was powerless to change her mind. "What time do you have to report?"

"Eleven. Porter and I need to spend some time getting better acquainted with the 'Randolph's' before the big event this evening." She rolled her eyes and sighed, moving to sit up. "We've been so busy trying to figure out what the hell's going on I've hardly glanced at my assignment packet."

"Good thing you're a quick-study, baby. I'm in the same boat, but my role is a little easier. I've gotta meet with McBride and Abramsen this morning, and learn the layout of the club... and my job description. I'll only have a few clients, though." He groaned. "We better get up, huh… Go take a shower, baby, and I'll fix breakfast. Tonight I plan to get acquainted with Jennifer Randolph." He grinned lasciviously and gave a playful slap to her shapely derriere as she climbed out of bed. "Think she'd be interested in foolin' around with a devilishly handsome FBI guy?"

Olivia threw a saucy look over her shoulder as she headed to the bathroom. "Rumor has it she's happily married… He'd have to be damn near irresistible," she called as she closed the bathroom door.

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading! Chapter 7 will be posted Sunday.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello to everyone. I see this story is actually catching the eye of some new folks out there... As always, I appreciate those of you who've taken a few moments to let me know if it's holding your interest. A fond thank you to all my readers.**

**Chapter 7**

**Saturday, December 1st**

Olivia and Dean Porter had been sequestered for the better part of three hours in one of the lavish sitting rooms reviewing their 'dossiers' and working on their characterizations of Jason and Jennifer Randolph. They'd familiarized themselves with the spiel concerning the circumstances that brought them to Hempstead: _They had found out through family friends it was for sale, and she and Jason had been given the option to buy it… They were offered the opportunity to spend the next several months in the home before making a decision._

Apparently Crestview had been empty for some time, although the house and grounds had been maintained impeccably... But the community was understandably curious about it, and because they'd be immediately immersed in the country club scene, it was essential to have a believable story to explain their sudden presence.

They committed to memory their respective background stories, then took turns quizzing each other. They'd agreed to use their undercover names at all times in order to stay in character. Now that they were actually working, their strong sense of professionalism kicked in and they were making good progress—although they were still tiptoeing around the subject of physical contact.

Porter looked over at her before addressing the 'elephant' in the room, hoping to god she wouldn't flip out and kick his ass. "Olivia, you know we've gotta put on a convincing act tonight—and it _will_ include some physical intimacy. What can I expect from you when I take your hand, or put my arm around you, or hold you when we're dancing—or god forbid, kiss you?"

"Well, for starters, you can call me 'Jennifer' and not Olivia," she said drily. "That would be a dead give-away." She turned to look at him, catching his eye and holding it. "You know this wouldn't even be an issue if you hadn't been such a jackass the last few days."

"So why didn't you call me on it? We didn't exactly part on the best of terms last time we were together—and we've never talked, so we haven't worked anything out."

"Is that why you've been such a prick—you've been trying to goad me into _starting a fight_—so we could work _things_ out? You couldn't have just picked up the phone and suggested we get together to talk instead of acting like a pre-pubescent child?"

"I tried to get you to sit down and talk to me, Oli—goddammit… _Jennifer_." He'd raised his voice and was pacing around the room.

"Yeah._ After_ you'd been a total ass—the poster boy for sexual harassment…"

"You didn't answer the question, Oli… _Jennifer_. How are you going to react when I touch you?" She sighed and started to haul herself up from the depths of the too-comfortable, overstuffed chair. Dean stepped over to the chair, surprising her when he reached down and grabbed her hand, helping her to her feet.

"Thank you, _Jason_." She grinned. "See, _I_ can stay in character."

"Okay." He cautiously stepped closer. "Good, _Jennifer_." He looked into her eyes, and she didn't flinch, so he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her—being careful to not overstep any bounds. Still she didn't resist. She held his eyes and he smiled. "Okay… Maybe this will work—and I'll get to keep all my parts."

"Don't push your luck."

She started to pull away and he yanked her back, his hands firmly gripping her upper arms, all levity gone. "Olivia, this op—and our _lives_—depend on it… I've gotta know you're up for this and I can count on you not to freak out and start beating the crap out of me if I grab you and kiss you—if we're in a situation that warrants it."

Her hands were resting on his chest, and she slowly pushed him away from her, never breaking eye contact. "I'm hungry, Jason. You want somethin' to eat?" She turned around and walked away, heading to their fully-stocked kitchen.

"Are you cooking, _Jennifer_?" he called to her retreating back.

"Hell, no... _Jason_."

"In that case, maybe I'll join you."

* * *

There were numerous events planned at the Country Club over the next few weeks, during the Holiday season, and the Randolph's would be attending almost all of them. On each occasion, there would be a crew monitoring the activity from the security office. Elliot and Frank, with the assistance of the 'techies,' were in the small office checking out the closed circuit monitoring system—making sure all the cameras were placed strategically and the equipment was in good working order for the evening's events. There were four screens set up to accommodate the amount of square footage the cameras would need to cover.

Frank was dividing his time between that and coordinating with a few agents working as 'wait' staff—in particular, Gary Stevens, who'd be posing as the bar tender. They'd be wired in order to transmit information to Frank and Elliot—and vice versa. It had been decided to not have Olivia or Porter wear a wire tonight… It would be too risky, with all the attention they'd be receiving.

Frank and Elliot had met earlier with both Gavin McBride and Jessica Abramsen, and together the four of them had explored every inch of the country club's interior. McBride would be spending some time in the security office, but he'd also be coordinating the added security for the event—mostly agents. They'd be covering the entrances and exits, and patrolling the grounds; Abramsen would be greeting and checking members and guests in as they arrived, and providing lists to Frank and Elliot.

Elliot had gotten a good feeling from her, but McBride had been harder to read—more standoffish. Frank had cropped it up to his shyness, but Elliot hadn't been so sure. He'd wished Olivia had been there to offer her opinion, and realized how hard being separated from her was going to be; he felt like he was missing a limb. He tried not to think about what it would be like this evening to see her all dolled up and on Porter's arm… Goddamn, he'd be glad when this was over.

As if he'd read his mind, Frank ambled over to him. He cocked one eyebrow and peered intently into his face. "You're thinkin' about her. You gonna be okay tonight when you see your pretty baby in the arms of another man, Stabler?" Elliot grunted and just shook his head as though trying to clear the image Frank had just conjured up for him of Olivia dancing with Porter's arms around her. "Do I need to take you off this detail tonight and bring someone else in…?"

"Fuck, no! I'm here to watch her back—I'll hold it together, Barrett," he growled. "I know what's at stake—I'll do whatever it takes… And if I start to lose it you can cold-cock me." He managed to grin over at Frank.

"I'll hold you to that. Remember, that pretty lady ain't got eyes for _nobody_ but you, Stabler… Believe me, if I thought otherwise I'd be movin' in on her myself," he teased. "She's got a job to do: So stand back, watch her six, and let her do it."

* * *

The event hall had been decorated festively for the occasion: A regal fir tree stood in one corner, sweeping from floor to ceiling, adorned with ornaments of gold and cream, and splashes of red. Garlands of greenery hung close to the ceiling along every wall, and decorated the length of the bar. The tiny white lights on the tree and threaded into the greenery shone like a million twinkling stars.

In the corner opposite the tree, a piano and stringed instrument ensemble played softly, providing background music—not overwhelming the conversation. Tables draped with pine green tablecloths and lacy overlays the color of rich cream, had been placed along the perimeters of the highly glossed dance floor. Lighted, pillared candles of shimmering gold sat in the center of each table, surrounded by greenery.

The fully stocked bar occupied the wall beyond the dance floor, its rich wood polished to a high gleam, the glasses and bottles reflecting the white lights from the greenery wrapped around it. A lone bartender was busy filling drink orders while he chatted amiably with the guests. Wait staff—many of them agents—carried trays of scrumptious hors d'houvres while maneuvering skillfully through the crowd.

Olivia was nervous when they walked into the room; it felt like every eye in the place was on Jason and Jennifer Randolph. She looked stunning in a deep red, one-shoulder, designer evening dress that hugged her curves and flared at the bottom, her luxuriant auburn waves falling softly around her shoulders. Dean was handsome in a black evening jacket and tie. He held her by his side, one arm reaching around her back, his hand resting at her waist.

* * *

Elliot was watching the monitors closely, eagerly waiting for the moment when Olivia arrived—at the same time filled with dread at the thought of seeing her on Porter's arm. He heard Frank's low whistle before he spotted her. "Jesus, Stabler—she is one gorgeous woman." He looked over at Elliot shaking his head. "You're a lucky son-of-a-bitch—you know that don'tcha…?"

"Yeah. I know that…" he growled. Elliot watched her, feeling his heart rate increase as he took in the way the red dress showcased her curves, trying to quell the anger that threatened to overwhelm him when he observed Porter's arm move possessively around her while he introduced her to another couple.

"You gonna be okay, Stabler?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he managed to grit out, through clenched teeth.

Frank eyed him skeptically, but took his answer at face value. "That's the Chairman of the Board, James Hobbs. Wife's name's Andrea. He knows about the op—she doesn't. He'll be introducin' the 'Randolphs' tonight.

* * *

Olivia was trying to be polite and listen to Andrea—who insisted she be called Andi—as the hyperactive 'blonde' nattered on about all the club's upcoming events for the holiday season. She was doing her best to come up with reasons she couldn't join the eighteen committees the woman was trying to recruit her for. She could have wept with relief when Porter decided to rescue her. Handing her a glass of red wine, he put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. "Jennifer and I really need to make our rounds… I see a couple of folks we'd like to say hello to before they seat us. It was so nice to meet you Andrea… uh, Andi. And nice to see you again, James…"

Before Olivia could say her 'good-byes' James had taken her hand and lifted it to his lips. "Good to see you Jason—and it's been a pleasure to meet your lovely wife. We'll see you shortly—we're seated at the same table… And Jennifer, I'll introduce you both before dinner is over." Olivia gave all the appropriate responses and Porter led her away.

"Please don't make me sit by her at dinner," she groaned. "I'm running out of excuses for not joining her committees. Oh my god, I could never do this… I'd go stark raving mad within a week."

Porter grinned down at her. "Well, Jennifer, you better hope we wrap this up quickly, or she'll have you selling tickets to the winter carnival."

The evening dragged interminably. Dinner was served, and 'Jennifer' and 'Jason' made mindless chitchat with the other couples at their table, including James and Andi Hobbs. It gave them plenty of opportunity to practice their 'background' stories. Before dessert was brought out, James introduced them—as promised, and the next hour was spent chatting with the curious club members who came over under the guise of welcoming them, but more likely recognizing fodder for the gossip mill.

Olivia concentrated on putting names with faces and picking up on any anomaly—especially when being introduced to men who appeared to be single… or seemed to be a little too interested in her, or her relationship with her husband. When she thought she couldn't bear to meet one more person, she was relieved to hear the musicians change to livelier music—more suited to dancing; perhaps this would draw attention away from them, for a while. Her relief was short-lived when Porter led her to the dance floor. "You can't be serious!" she managed to hiss while keeping the smile on her face intact.

"Serious as a heart attack, Jennifer," he whispered, smiling into her eyes as he took her into his arms and pulled her close for a slow dance. "Remember, we're in love: I dote on you, and you thrive on being the center of my universe." And anyone observing them would have thought just that: She was attentive, smiling up at him and murmuring softly… And he buried his face in her hair, whispering in her ear—making it easier to compare notes; all the while appearing to be a couple hopelessly in love. But when he bent his lips to hers, kissing her ardently, she'd had enough.

She stiffened in his arms—not missing a beat, and looked up at him adoringly. "Listen, you son-of-a-bitch… If you kiss me again—when it's not _warranted_—I swear to god I'll make you cry."

He smiled back at her, not trying to hide his amusement. "Thanks for the warning, _sweetheart_. Just trying to stay in character..." She seethed, as she lovingly returned his smile.

* * *

Frank and Elliot had been busy trying to identify each person in attendance with the help of James Hobbs, who'd joined them, in between his duties as Chairman. They had a ledger with the names of every member, and a separate list of the guests. James had been helping them match names with faces and providing background information, including how long they'd been associated with the Country Club, or the Hempstead community—until he'd been needed elsewhere, in his capacity as Chairman.

Elliot watched as the dance floor started to fill, and had to force himself not to react when he saw Porter lead Olivia onto the floor and take her in his arms. His attention was diverted when the door opened and he heard a nauseatingly familiar voice behind him. What the fuck! "Tucker…? What the hell are you doing here? How did you even get in...?"

"Nice to see you too, Stabler," he said, with an arrogant smirk. He motioned to the younger man beside him. "I'd like to introduce you to Special Agent John Lamb… He's your connection to Crestwood and this community."

"It's good to see you again, John." Elliot shook the man's hand and clapped him on the shoulder. He turned to Frank. "John, this is Special Agent Frank Barrett… Frank, Special Agent John Lamb." As an afterthought, he introduced Frank to Tucker. "And this is Lt. Tucker of the NYPD's rat squad."

Tucker ignored Frank, as he gestured between Elliot and Agent Lamb. "You two know each other?" Tucker clearly wasn't aware of it.

"Yes, John was one of my instructors at the academy—Electronic Surveillance."

Tucker looked curiously at John. "I didn't realize that." He shifted his attention to Elliot. "Why aren't you out on the dance floor with Benson…? Or should I say—your _wife_, Jennifer…?" He looked him up and down. "You aren't even dressed for it… What the hell's going on, Stabler?"

"What the fuck business is it of yours, Tucker? Last I checked, IAB wasn't running the FBI, and you sure as hell don't have any jurisdiction over _me_ anymore." Elliot looked questioningly at Agent Lamb. "This is supposed to be a goddamned undercover operation… I get why you've got inside information, John, but what the hell's he doin' here?"

Agent Lamb smiled, attempting to placate Elliot. "Settle down, Agent Stabler. Ed and I are good friends—we go way back. I've been involved in this from the beginning, and I knew Ed had ties to Manhattan's SVU unit; I just wanted to pick his brain. He highly recommended Olivia Benson for this… He's well-aware of the operation. It was my understanding you were going under with her…?"

"Sorry to disappoint you boys… There was a last minute change of plan." Elliot looked at Tucker with disdain as he addressed Agent Lamb. "Did he also tell you he jammed us up every chance he got...?" he asked with a sneer. "So forgive me if I'm a little surprised he'd recommend either of us for anything."

The look Agent Lamb gave Tucker indicated he hadn't heard about the bad blood between the three of them, and for a brief moment Elliot saw a flash of anger in his eyes—but he quickly recovered, and turned to Elliot. "Agent Stabler, we've taken up enough of your time. We'll let you get back to monitoring the guests." He looked pointedly at Tucker—giving him no opportunity to disagree, and ushered him out the door.

Frank had retreated to the other side of the room and sat in front of one of the monitors, interacting quietly with one of the agents on the floor—feigning no interest in the exchange between the three men, when actually he'd been listening intently and taking it all in. "What the hell was that…?" he exclaimed as soon as they left, crossing the room to stand beside Elliot.

"Damned if I know, but I sure don't like it… Something is way the hell off, Frank! I'm calling Cragen."

"Good. I was gonna suggest it... See if he can make some sense of this."

Elliot took out his burner phone, and dialed Donald Cragen at the Precinct. He picked up on the second ring. They talked for ten minutes and when he got off the phone he looked at Frank. "We've gotta find Lamb and talk to him."

"You're not tellin' me nothin' I don't know, Stabler. I woulda asked him a few things tonight if he hadn't had that jackass Tucker with him. Like, how'd anybody get access to the house to put cameras in the bedroom, for starters…?"

* * *

Olivia had had no lack of partners cutting in on her and Porter on the dance floor and she had so many new names and faces in her head she felt the beginnings of a headache; not one of them appeared to be any kind of a lead. She'd resolved to sit the next one out when she felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned to find Lt. Ed Tucker insisting he be allowed to cut in. She was so stunned she didn't decline, and found herself being pulled into his arms. This was certainly a bizarre twist… If anyone had told her she'd ever be on a dance floor in the arms of Ed Tucker, she'd have told them they were high on 'crack.' What the hell! She realized he was talking, and tried to compose herself.

"Olivia…?"

"Uh—what did you say…? What the hell are you doing here, Tucker?"

He gave a huff of irritation, still smarting from the dressing-down he'd just suffered at the hands of John Lamb, and he was in no mood for her attitude… but he managed to plant a smile on his face before repeating his comment. "I said, you look lovely, Olivia—as always, I might add." Olivia's eyes grew wide, not quite believing this was real. He continued before she could comment. "Why isn't Stabler posing as your husband?" He paused for a moment—his smile replaced with a sneer. "I'd have thought the two of you would've jumped at the chance to play out your little fantasy." The news that they were now a couple clearly hadn't made it to IAB. Before she could respond, he continued. "Who's under with you, Benson?"

"Tucker, I'm pretty sure this is none of your damn business," she hissed, being careful not to cause a scene. "Why are you here…? And for god's sake, call me _Jennifer_, you idiot."

"You're your usual charming self, Ben- _Jennifer_…" He gave her an appraising look that raised the hair on the back of her neck. "It's a damn pity such a beautiful woman is such a pain in the ass." His eyes were cold, and she gave an involuntary shudder at the maliciousness she saw there.

"You know what, Tucker. I don't have to dance with you… This is definitely not in the line of duty." She extricated herself from his arms and left him standing alone on the dance floor.

Porter, who'd been watching from the sidelines quickly made his way to her, putting his arm around her as he led her back to their table. She belatedly realized she'd probably passed up an opportunity, but hadn't until that moment entertained the possibility that Tucker played any real role in this. "Dammit! I should have kept dancing and tried to figure out what the hell he's up to..."

"What information could he possibly have…?" Porter studied her closely, a question in his eyes.

Olivia suddenly remembered she didn't know yet if she could trust him. She sighed. "Nothing… I'm sure. He's just a major pain in the ass," she said quietly. "You know who he is… right?"

For the briefest of moments something flashed in Porter's eyes, before he turned his gaze from her. "Isn't he the IAB brass that's always giving you and Stabler such a hard time?" he asked. The casualness with which he asked the question was clearly manufactured.

"Yeah." She left it at that.

Neither of them were aware of the eyes in the far corner of the room that had followed their every move.

* * *

It was well after midnight when Olivia heard the knock on her balcony door—she'd been expecting him.

After she and Porter had returned from the party they'd taken a few minutes to make it appear as though they were in the bedroom together getting ready for bed—being sure they were in full view of the cameras. They'd spent time in the 'his' and 'her' bathrooms, brushing their teeth, and chatting—going through a normal bedtime routine; then they'd stood in their nightclothes, talking, with his arms wrapped around her and her hands resting on his shoulders—looking into each other's eyes. He'd apologized as he'd reached down and kissed her—very convincingly—for the camera; Olivia had allowed it, remembering Frank's words, but she'd had to fight the urge to slug him. When he pulled away, she saw something in his eyes—something close to regret—and she'd quickly averted her gaze. After he'd left, she'd locked the doors to the suite and shut the balcony light off—her signal to Elliot.

She unlocked the door now, and Elliot pulled her into his arms. "Oh god, baby..." he groaned. He held her close for a moment, burying his face in her hair. "You looked so gorgeous tonight, Liv." He quickly found her lips and made up for all the hours they'd been apart—hours he'd been forced to watch her posing as another man's wife.

She clung to him. "I'm so glad you're here, El," she whispered.

He held her tightly. When he loosened his grip on her he pushed her away just enough to look her over. She was wearing a cobalt blue peignoir set—courtesy of the FBI—and he untied the belt to reveal the sheer gown beneath the robe. The empire-style bodice was low-cut and cradled her breasts, generously accentuating her cleavage. He groaned, and reached to caress her through the silky material, then pulled her back into his arms. "You look so beautiful, Liv. God I hate this, baby… This is torture—watching you with him."

"I don't like it either, El—and believe me, I miss you. This is the most fucked up thing we've ever been involved in, Elliot. I've got stuff I've gotta tell you about," she said, as she reluctantly pulled out of his arms, and led him over to a plush love seat in the corner of the room, out of the eye of the cameras. They settled into the cozy settee, and Elliot wrapped his arms around her.

"Elliot, I didn't tell you this at the time because it didn't seem important—but Ed Tucker's involved in this… He was there tonight. Cragen told me he'd made a point of_ endorsing _the FBI's recruitment of me with the brass…"

"I just found that out a couple of hours ago, Liv. Tucker showed up in the monitoring room with Agent Lamb… He was one of my instructors at Quantico. Turns out he's the FBI's tie to this property."

"What's his connection to Tucker?" Olivia leaned into him, her head resting on his chest—just breathing him in.

"Seems they're old friends, and Lamb picked his brain about a good candidate for the role of Jennifer; Tucker recommended you. He was all bent out of shape when he found out I wasn't UC as 'Jason Randolph...' And I could've sworn Lamb was pissed about it, too."

"What the hell is going on, El?"

"Something's way off, baby, and I don't like the direction it seems to be heading." He looked down at her and pulled her closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. "I called Cap. He said he'd been thinking about Tucker the last few days, and somethin' doesn't feel right… We compared notes, and things started to take shape. He's gonna have Rollins research the ownership of Crestview… He said she's pretty skilled at that kind of stuff."

Olivia pulled away and leaned wearily back into the cushions raking a hand through her hair. "She is."

"And Munch and Fin are gonna go through all our old files looking for cases that involved wealthy victims or perps… or anyone with a tie to Hempstead; someone who might have a reason to be holding a grudge." He felt her body tense beside him, and he pulled her back into his arms. "Agent Lamb didn't tell Tucker he knew me… Tucker was shocked when he found out tonight."

Olivia shuddered involuntarily in his arms. "Elliot, Porter saw me with Tucker, and afterwards he questioned me about him—but made a concerted effort to appear uninterested. I'm really nervous about this… What in hell does it all mean? None of it makes any sense. How the hell are we supposed to concentrate on finding the perpetrator, when our own team members are acting so damn screwy?"

He placed his hands on her shoulders so he could push her away to look into her eyes. "Hey, baby, we'll figure it out. And I'm here to make sure you're okay." He leaned forward and kissed her again. "And right now I wanna try out that king-size bed, _Jennifer_," he growled, not trying to disguise the lust in his eyes as they roved down over the front of her gown.

"Hey, I thought this was information-sharing only, Agent Stabler," she teased.

"The hell you did," he declared, scooping her up and depositing her on the bed.

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading! Chapter 8 will be posted Wednesday.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Good Morning everyone! Thank you, thank you for the reviews... I've had a few less with this story and was afraid folks weren't enjoying it. I'm beginning to catch up with myself, so may be uploading the last few chapters once a week instead of twice a week... I promise I'll avoid that if possible, but I won't compromise the story to do it. I may need to extend this one to twelve chapters instead of ten. Once again, thank you so much for reading. Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 8**

**Sunday, December 2****nd**

"You almost ready?" Porter was standing in the bedroom calling to her through the closed bathroom door. He was so goddamned annoying… Didn't he realize that haranguing her would only slow her down more? He obviously didn't spend much time around women.

"Jason, for god's sake find something to do. I'll be out in five minutes…"

"You said that fifteen minutes ago, Jennifer… We're gonna be late!"

"It's brunch… You can't be late for brunch! Now stop nagging me and let me get ready." She perused the overabundance of clothes in the closet once more, and finally decided on a pair of slim-line light brown slacks and an over-sized, soft cashmere sweater… The brick-red complimented her coloring and the loose cowl neck and side slits gave it a dressier look. She pulled her hair into a casual upsweep, and added small gold hoops to her earlobes. She finally pulled on the brown leather boots with four-inch heels she'd built the rest of her outfit around, and rushed out of the bathroom nearly colliding with Porter.

"Whoa! He grinned, looking her up and down. "Well worth the wait."

Her look of disgust was not lost on him as he helped her into her coat and hustled her to the waiting car.

* * *

Olivia was certain of two things: If she had to listen to Andi Hobbs for five more minutes she was in real danger of losing her mind; and if Porter didn't keep his goddamned hands off her he was in real danger of losing something else. They'd been here for almost two hours. Andi had introduced them to several other couples, and much to her dread, arranged for the wives to meet tomorrow for lunch and shopping, in the city.

She was so sidetracked by her misery she almost missed Elliot, aka Zach Thomas, particularly handsome in a deep-blue turtle-neck jersey and jeans—looking so damn good she forgot to breathe. She watched him as he approached the bar across the room. He nonchalantly turned around and scanned the crowded room until he caught her eye, discreetly signaling she should meet him… She'd need to walk right by the bar to get to the ladies room, so she excused herself—half expecting Andi to volunteer to accompany her.

She walked slowly toward the bar, being careful to not let anyone catch her eyeing him, and made a turn to the right, heading in the direction of the restrooms. She sensed him rather than saw him, when he stepped away from the bar and followed her. Before she reached the ladies room door, he stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her—dragging her into a small utility closet a few doors down, and closing the door.

She gasped, not expecting him to do anything so blatantly risky. "Elliot, have you lost your mind?" she hissed.

He spun her around and pulled her to him, dragging his lips across hers and moaning softly into her mouth. "I'm going to if I have to watch that asshole paw you for one more minute. God, you look sexy today, baby. You're drivin' me crazy, Liv."

Try as she might, she couldn't stifle her own moan as his hands roved over her body, touching her through her clothes. "We're in danger of jeopardizing this whole op, Elliot… So you better get a grip and let me go back to the table. Jesus, I thought you needed something important," she groaned, as he nibbled her neck.

He didn't loosen his hold as he stood grinning at her. "I did—something very important—I needed to kiss the woman I love." He claimed her lips again and snaked his hand up under her sweater, caressing the soft skin just above her hips— causing the sweater to hitch up as he edged his hands higher, seeking her soft curves.

She returned his kiss, and softened her tone—smiling into his eyes. "You look particularly handsome yourself, ya know… You took my breath away when I saw you standing over there."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah… Really. Now let me go," she directed, managing to pull her sweater down and extricate herself from his grasp. "I'll see you tonight," she whispered softly, placing a quick peck on his lips, and reluctantly pulling away.

"Yes, you _will_ see me tonight. And I'm not letting you out of my arms all night long." He kissed her deeply, one more time. "Hey, let me go out there first…" He turned around and grabbed a broom to make his foray into the closet appear legitimate. "I'll open the door when I'm sure the coast is clear." He started to open the door, but she grabbed his arm.

"Hey, Agent Stabler… Stop watching me through your monitor before Porter gives you a stroke." She smiled tentatively at him, half teasing—but knowing full well how hard this was on him.

* * *

Frank was beyond frustrated, and his conversation with the assistant director was going nowhere. "Come on, Connie. Give me somethin' here—I been tryin' to locate the man all day. Could be Lamb's got information that's got some bearin' on this case... Tucker said he's our tie to this community—why the hell can't I talk to him? You're tyin' my hands here, Putnam!"

ADIC Putnam was between a rock and a hard place… She had the utmost faith in Frank Barrett, and she was loathe to not provide him with the information he needed. But she'd entered into an ironclad agreement with John Lamb: He'd provided the use of Crestview, and inroads to the Hempstead Country Club—with the absolute guarantee that his identity would not be revealed, and he'd only communicate with her. So why the hell had he shown up at the club last night? Whatever the reason, she assumed it was valid, and until she heard otherwise she was duty-bound to treat it as such.

"I can't make this any clearer, Frank—Lamb is not available. And unless you can give me something concrete to go on, his status will not change. Now, I've got better things to do on a Sunday evening… And I'm sure you've got plenty to keep you busy."

* * *

It had been another long and frustrating day, and once again Olivia and Porter had played out their bedtime charade: He'd held her intimately, and kissed her—making sure they were in camera range, as they'd convincingly portrayed a couple in love. He'd been a little less ardent tonight, probably a direct result of how irritated she'd been since they'd returned from the club. She'd nearly bitten his head off a few times when he'd unnecessarily reached for her.

But now Elliot was finally holding her in his arms—not allowing an inch between their bodies, despite the spaciousness of the bed. He brushed her hair away from her face, as he sweetly kissed her soft lips. "How was the rest of your day, baby?"

"Long, frustrating, and boring. But I don't wanna talk about it right now," she moaned, as he moved from her lips to her ear, and nibbled there, causing her to squirm beneath him.

"Oh, you don't, huh. You sure looked gorgeous at the club today, _Jennifer," _he whispered in her ear. "If you don't wanna talk, did you have somethin' else in mind…?"

"Mmmm, I think you're way overdressed..." she purred. "...for what I have in mind, Special Agent Stabler." She ran her hands up under his tee shirt, stopping to explore his sculpted chest and the hard planes of his back. She felt his muscles ripple beneath her fingertips as he helped her rid himself of the offending garment.

"And now _you're_ overdressed, baby. What should we do about that…?" he teased. He reached to touch her breast through the scant slip of silk she was wearing… a sexy red teddy she'd found among the treasures in her bureau drawers. "But I do like this..." He lowered his mouth to her taut nipple, clearly outlined beneath the skimpy material, and for a time they lost themselves in the magnificence of each other's bodies—leaving the worries of Hempstead, Crestview, and the FBI far behind.

* * *

**Monday, December 3****rd**

Elliot paced in frustration. "What do you mean Lamb's not available, Frank?"

Frank gave him a look that clearly said 'chill the fuck out' and Elliot stopped pacing and dropped into the nearest chair. After a busy morning for both of them, they'd made arrangements to meet back at the cottage to compare notes.

"I'm just tellin' you what Putnam said. Wherever he is, it's a 'need-to-know' basis, an' it's her considered opinion we don't need to know. 'Less we tip our hand, she's not budgin.' "

Elliot groaned. "We could talk to that ass, Tucker, but I can't exactly just take off…" he griped. "I've got my first client at two o'clock."

Frank grinned over at him. "No. You can't leave—but _I_ can. I'll go find the weasel and get him to tell us somethin'. From what I observed, all I gotta do is appeal to his ego."

* * *

An hour later, Frank sat across from Lieutenant Ed Tucker, waiting for him to wrap up the telephone call that had interrupted their conversation. When he finally ended the call he looked over at Frank. "What was it you wanted again, _Agent?"_ he asked, his tone dripping with condescension.

Frank leaned forward in his chair, his forearms resting on his thighs, and fixed his eyes on Tucker. He was tempted to tell him just what an asshole he was—but in deference to accomplishing his goal, he refrained.

"Lieutenant, I listened to the conversation you were havin' last night with Agent Stabler and Agent Lamb, and it appears you've been helpful to this operation. I was hopin' I could appeal to you once more for some assistance. We need to talk with Agent Lamb, and we know he's not available… But knowin' what good friends you two are, we thought maybe you could answer some questions for us." He kept his eyes trained on Tucker's face, hoping he was projecting utmost sincerity. "I kinda' got the feelin' you and Stabler mix like water an' oil, an' I know how hot-headed the man can be… Thought you might be willin' to talk to _me, _though. It'd be a damn shame to let personal agendas stand in the way of tappin' into a valuable resource like yourself."

He clearly had Tucker's attention. "You're a smart man, Agent Barrett. Stabler has been a thorn in my… uh, the _side_ of the Internal Affairs Bureau for the past fifteen years—or at least until he retired from the 16th Precinct. But that's no reason to withhold my help from the FBI… What can I do for you?"

* * *

When Frank left Tucker he had a lot of information, but no way to gauge its validity. The next step would be to extricate Olivia from Porter long enough for her and Elliot to meet with him—without making Porter suspicious. He wanted to go over the information he'd gotten from Tucker, and he needed their take on it… So he made an impromptu visit to Crestview.

He was nothing if not convincing: He claimed Olivia and Elliot needed time to compare notes, pointing out the value of their long-term partnership; they obviously could read each other and might pick up on something that might otherwise be missed. Porter was skeptical until Frank indicated he wasn't asking permission, reminding him if he'd wanted to run the show, he should've kept his position as handler.

* * *

Elliot checked his phone for messages after finishing up his first session as fitness trainer, Zach Thomas.

His client was Miranda Lewis, a fifty something who clearly considered herself a 'cougar…' And while Elliot wasn't in the age bracket of the men she usually pursued, his gorgeous blue eyes and glorious physique were not lost on her. She batted her eyelashes and flirted shamelessly, insisting he show her an exercise regimen; no doubt, one she hoped could compensate for what plastic surgery hadn't yet accomplished—it fell under the category of 'not gonna happen.' But he was no fool… He wasn't about to tell her. In the meantime, he patiently demonstrated a routine that took about sixty minutes and should be done three times a week. Hopefully he'd be long gone by the time she realized it wasn't a miracle cure. He set up appointments for her for the next month.

He scrolled through his phone messages, finding the one from Frank he'd hoped would be there, and returned his call. "Hey, what'd you find out…? Anything helpful…?"

"Yeah… But we need to meet with Olivia, and I figured out a way to do it. She's gonna sign up with _Zach Thomas_ for some 'body trainin.' " He chuckled, imagining the look on Elliot's face. "Then the three of us can meet at the gym."

"Sounds good… How soon can you set it up, Frank?"

"We'll be there in thirty minutes."

"Man, you _are_ good. I'm gonna grab a quick shower, and I'll meet you in the gym."

* * *

True to his word, Frank was there in thirty minutes. Five minutes later, Olivia strolled out of the ladies locker room and into the gym, swigging from a water bottle and looking sexy and stylish in a three-piece yoga outfit—purple overlaid with black—apparently the workout attire for the rich and bored. Elliot's face broke into a grin, and Frank just lifted an eyebrow as he looked her up and down.

"All right you two… I don't get to choose my own wardrobe right now, so just give me a break." She was all too aware of how good it felt to be with them—the only ones she felt safe with these days. "What's up, anyway…? Overnights aren't enough, Stabler?" She grinned saucily up at Elliot.

He smiled into her eyes. "Never enough," he mouthed silently, not really caring if Frank heard him, but not wanting to embarrass her.

"Okay, you two, we got a lotta ground to cover… You got an office we can meet in, Stabler?"

"Yeah, and I've got some brochures and sign-up forms… You can pretend you're filling one out, Liv."

They settled in chairs scattered around a small table in the make-shift office, and Elliot placed some pamphlets, an open sign-up form, and a pen on the table in front of Olivia.

"So, what did you learn from Tucker, Frank," she asked as she started writing 'Jennifer Randolph' at the top of the form.

"More'n I could have hoped for… but I'm not sure how much is bullshit. I figure the two of you can help me sort it out." He looked appraisingly from one to the other. "Did you two just make it a general practice to go around pissin' people off…? 'Cause I gotta say, you sure made some enemies." Frank grinned over at them, and Olivia gave Elliot a knowing smirk.

Elliot looked slightly chagrinned. "We might not've been as conventional as brass would've liked… But believe me, there's no love lost as far as Tucker's concerned."

"What he means is—he's a hothead… And we both might've bent a few rules to get the job done." Olivia smiled ruefully. "Neither of which sits well with the powers that be—especially Tucker."

Frank's mouth curled into a smirk. "Yeah—that could be the understatement of the decade. Th' fact he doesn't like you's a point in your favor in my book, 'cause Tucker's a condescendin' prick with a stick up his ass… And he's got a blind spot where you two are concerned—one that could be dangerous."

"He always thought we were too close as partners." Elliot glanced at Olivia, trying to gauge how she'd feel about his next revelation. When she gave a slight nod, he continued. "He made it his personal agenda to try to break us up—thought there was more goin' on than a partnership."

"Was there?"

Elliot leaned his elbows on the table and scrubbed one hand down over the light stubble on his jaw. "That's hard to say…" Frank's eyebrows shot up, and Elliot hurried to clarify. "What I mean is… apparently there _was_ more goin' on, but we never acted on it—didn't really know it ourselves. I guess we were in denial—until I left."

"Tucker still doesn't know you're a couple, ya know."

"Yeah… I realized that when we were dancing," Olivia offered—the look of disgust on her face a testament to just how repugnant she'd found the experience to be. "He said he figured we'd have jumped at the chance to _live out our little fantasy—_as the 'Randolph's…' "

"Wait! _Lamb_ knew Liv and I were together… Why wouldn't he have straightened Tucker out on that?"

"That's one more you can add to the growin' list of unanswered questions. As a matter of fact—at the risk of bein' a sexist pig…" He sent a disarming smile in Olivia's direction. "…would you be willin' to take some notes for us Olivia? Unless of course, you want to, Stabler," he smirked.

"No, no. Liv can go ahead… I'll risk being a sexist pig, too." He grinned when she rolled her eyes at them, but she reached into her purse and took out a notebook. "Did you learn anything from him today?" Elliot asked.

"I'm not sure… That's why I wanted you two to go over it with me. Could be he's feedin' me a buncha bullshit. First off, he damn near broke his arm tryin' to point a finger at Porter: He wasn't sayin' he did anything wrong—just seemed awful intent on lettin' me know some things…"

Olivia sat with pen poised over paper, waiting to write something down. "Such as…?"

"Well, it wasn't anything I didn't know, but I'll be damned if I can figure out how he knows it… or why he was inclined to share it with me."

"Frank…" Olivia was beginning to lose patience.

"He said Porter was the one who supplied the intel about Hempstead bein' the next target."

"That's gotta be pretty common knowledge, though… Couldn't Lamb have told him?"

"It wasn't that common. Putnam made it pretty clear it was a point only a few of us would be privy to… And maybe Lamb was in that loop, but he sure as hell would've known better than to share it with an outsider like Tucker."

Olivia was jotting down the information, creating a 'bullet point' list. "What else…?"

"He talked about how pissed Dean is at you and Elliot, and…"

"Wait… Slow down, Frank." Olivia looked up with a puzzled frown. "How the hell would _Tucker_ know anything _personal_ about _Porter_?"

"Damned if I know…" he said, shaking his head. "All I know's he said Porter blames Elliot for coming between the two of you, but…" He glanced at Olivia, hesitating.

"But what…?" She stopped writing and looked pointedly at him. Elliot straightened in his chair, watching her intently—a look of worry in his eyes. "Say it, Frank. But what…?"

"Tucker said Dean's furious at you 'cause you let Elliot come between you… Says you're a tease—led him on."

"That's not how it happened." Her tone was acerbic. She tossed the pen on the table and looked down at the notes she'd taken.

"Didn't expect it was… I know a first-class lady when I meet one. You're a class act, Benson."

She lifted her head, and he smiled into her eyes as she picked up her pen. "Okay… What else did you learn, Barrett?"

Frank sighed before continuing, and locked eyes with Elliot. "He said—_based on what Lamb told him_—Porter had been given full access to Crestwood about a week ago… That's before he turned things over to me, so he could've had easy access and opportunity to have the cameras installed in the Master Suite."

Elliot slammed his fist on the table, and stood so quickly his chair toppled over. "That son-of-a-bitch…! You know what that means?" Frank nodded and glanced at Olivia before Elliot continued. "It means he could've angled them back the way he wants 'em." She looked from one man to the other, the color draining from her face—remembering the intimate moments she'd shared with Elliot the last two nights.

"Yeah… I know. I've already arranged to have Morales come in tonight to check it out." He turned his gaze to Olivia. "In the meantime, avoid…"

"I know what to avoid." She looked him in the eye, and nodded to the list she was working on. "What else…?"

Frank raised an eyebrow and glanced appreciatively at her. "Well, I'm hopin' this is somethin' useful… I don't know Tucker well enough to be sure, but I could have sworn he was POed at Lamb—I got the feelin' he got an ass-chewin.' It kinda seemed like he was pissed and 'tellin' tales outta school' if you know what I mean…?"

Elliot perked up at this. "What'd he say, Frank"?

"Somethin' about how it wasn't _his_ fault Stabler didn't go under as Jason Randolph—instead of Porter… Said he had no control over it and he couldn't figure out why the hell Lamb was so mad." Frank looked intently at Elliot. "He said Lamb never told him he knew you, even though he'd had plenty of chances to… Tucker said he mentioned you to Lamb when he recommended Olivia—told him you were FBI now and how it'd be a good setup since you two'd been partners and had a thing for each other anyway."

"What the fuck." Elliot stood up and started pacing in the small area between the table and the door.

"When I asked him how long he'd known Lamb, he said they met in the service. Then he mumbled somethin' about maybe it'd been too long—he was tired of trailin' after him… And I'm quotin' here: 'Just because he comes from money, he thinks he can run every show—always has.' "

Elliot sat back down and wearily scrubbed his hands down over his face, as he looked over at Olivia. "This just keeps getting more bizarre, Liv. I never got any kind of 'off' vibe from Lamb when he was my instructor. He seemed friendly enough—maybe a little reserved… But I just figured that was the way he was."

"How much longer can we meet today without Porter gettin' suspicious?" Frank addressed the question to Olivia as he glanced at his watch.

"He was heading out later this afternoon… Said he'd arranged to meet with the Assistant Director to fill her in on some things, and he'd be back around six. I didn't question him because I figured it would work in our favor."

"The little piss ant is supposed to go through me," Frank growled. "But you're right—it does work in our favor."

"How 'bout we start making a list of red flags," Elliot suggested. "Start a new page, Liv, and divide it in thirds: Porter, Tucker, and Lamb."

"Okay." She tore off the notes she'd already taken and started on a fresh page.

"Let's begin with Porter. What are the behaviors that concern us?"

"Well, for starters, his behavior toward Olivia," Frank said.

They spent the next half-hour compiling a list of behaviors that could be considered questionable about the three men. When they'd listed everything they could think of, Elliot leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "Okay. Read it back to us, Liv."

She took a look at the list she'd made under each name, jotting a few final notes, before she read them aloud, starting with Porter's:

Porter - Recruited Olivia; Opposed Elliot going under with Olivia; Turned over 'handler' position to Frank to go under with Olivia himself; Inappropriate, harassing behavior toward Olivia; Veiled threat to both Olivia and Elliot; Probably bugged their phones; Possibly bugged Master Suite; Possible motive - Angry because Elliot came between them / Thinks Olivia 'led' him on

Tucker - Recommended Olivia as Jennifer; Showed up at Country Club as Lamb's guest; Privy to much more info than an outsider should be; Frustrated with Elliot because he wasn't under with Olivia; Longtime friend of John Lamb; Long term ill will toward Olivia and Elliot

Lamb - Elliot's instructor at Quantico; Understands and has access to technical surveillance and equipment; Tucker's longtime friend / Shares sensitive FBI info with him; Neglected to tell Tucker he knew Elliot; Requested Tucker's input for candidate for Jennifer; FBI ties to Hempstead and Crestview – Possible money connection; Inexplicably angered because Elliot isn't under with Olivia

"That's everything," she said, laying the pages on the table.

"What the hell's the tie-in here? Elliot, you said Cragen's havin' someone research the ownership of Crestview? When d'you think he'll have anything for us…?"

"I'm hoping I'll hear from him before the day is out… And I know it's a long shot, but Cragen's having Munch and Fin go through some of our back cases to see if there are any possible ties to this community… If this _is_ a personal vendetta, there's nothing yet to point us in any direction other than what's right under our noses—but he's so frantic he's not gonna leave any stone unturned."

"Your Captain has a deep fondness for you guys—he needs to play a part in this. 'Sides—it can't hurt," Frank pointed out. "What exactly is Lamb's tie to Crestview? Does anybody really know?" he asked.

"No idea… I didn't know anything about it until Saturday night, when he came in with Tucker."

"Did you ever talk about Olivia at Quantico, Elliot?"

"All the time, he admitted. I had pictures of her too."

"So you're pretty sure Lamb knew about Olivia before he went to Tucker…? Is it conceivable he set out to make certain she was recruited for the role?" He shook his head before anyone could respond. "Except Porter claims _he_ recruited her… Are they workin' together?"

"I guess it's possible…"

"Hey guys, I'm sitting right here, remember… Stop talking about me like I'm a pawn in some game," Olivia complained, not quite able to hide her irritation.

Frank gave her a sheepish grin and Elliot reached over and squeezed her hand, mouthing, "I'm sorry."

Frank picked up the dialogue. "By all accounts Porter is the one who has the intel on Hempstead being the next target of the unsub. I gotta say things are stackin' up in his corner to make him look more 'n' more suspicious. What if _he's_ settin' you up for… some kind of _revenge_?" He addressed his question to Olivia then shook his head in frustration. "Goddamn, that's so farfetched even I don't buy it."

Elliot looked over at Olivia. "Much as I hate to give Porter the benefit of the doubt, what if Lamb has some agenda we don't know about and Porter suspects you're being set up? Does that make any sense? Could explain why he was so hell-bent on going under with you."

"Yeah, but it doesn't explain why he's been such a prick!" Olivia scoffed.

"What about Tucker… Anyone really think he's behind any of this?" Elliot asked, looking from Olivia to Frank.

"I guess he could be workin' with Lamb, but I'd bet he's just a patsy: I think he honestly doesn't know what Lamb's really about, and it bothers him… He doesn't have any idea how to reach him—his only contact's at Lamb's discretion. I know he'd be happy to see you two get what he figures is comin' to ya—but I don't see him havin' the stones to do it 'less he's behind his desk and the IAB is backin' him."

"I'd say you pretty much summed up what I was thinking. What about you, Liv… You see it any differently?"

Olivia leaned wearily back in her chair, and laid the pen down. "I'm not so sure… I think he may have his own agenda, but I agree; in the end he's probably nothing more than a pain in the ass." Olivia looked at her watch and groaned. "Guys, I've gotta head back to my dungeon." She stood and handed the notes she'd taken to Frank. "When we get info from Cragen, we need to meet again… Maybe it'll tie some of this together."

"Yeah, you're right, baby." Elliot stood and helped her gather her things. "Guess I can't walk you out, huh. But I'll see you tonight." He reached over and pulled her to him, "I know Frank's sittin' right here, but I'm gonna kiss you anyway," he grinned, looking into her eyes.

"Oh. _Really_, Stabler…? Guess I'm gonna let you, then," she sassed.

**TBC**

**Thanks for reading... Chapter 9 will be posted Sunday.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Happy Easter everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews, and happy reading!**

**Chapter 9**

Special Agent Dean Porter stood with his back to Assistant Director Putnam, looking out the window—wondering how in hell he'd gotten pulled into this mess. He would never understand why he'd been the one to receive the intelligence that had ultimately triggered the undercover operation that had taken over his life.

In spite of the incongruous manner in which the intel had been delivered to him—an anonymous voice over the phone—there was so much about it that rang true it would've been negligible to ignore it… What would be of even greater concern, should the intel prove to be genuine, would be the far-reaching backlash to the FBI if it were dismissed out of hand. So when Porter brought it to her attention, Putnam made a command decision to treat it as credible intel and pushed the approval process forward to set up a sting—keeping it off the grid as much as possible, in the event it proved to be bogus.

"What the hell is going on with this op, Connie?"

ADIC Putnam sat unperturbed, coolly assessing Porter. He was a hell of an agent—gutsy and dedicated—not allowing emotion and sentiment to stand in the way of the job… a trait that had made him an invaluable asset to 'homeland security.' But he could be stubborn when he got something into his head—damn near impossible to dissuade—like a dog with a bone. She sat forward, leaning her elbows on her desk and resting her chin in her hand. "If you hadn't gotten so pigheaded and gone off in your own direction, I guess you'd have a better handle on it, Dean."

Porter stood with his hands in his pockets, continuing to watch the early evening view of the city, his relaxed stance betrayed by the tension in his voice. "I couldn't let them go under together, Connie. I told you… They're too good! They'd know something was off—and believe me, they don't blindly follow directives. Together they'd have pushed this until she… one—or both of them—got themselves killed." He turned to look at her. "Besides, Huang agreed with me... Ultimately, it was his decision to not let them go under together."

"And you didn't trust anyone else to have her back…? That's why you jumped ship and handed your job over to Frank. Or did you just want to be close to her? What's your motivation here, Dean?"

"My motivation is the same as yours, Connie. To find out what in hell is going on with this case. Don't tell me you really believe this is about the 'Country Club' murders… I know you better than that—you didn't rise in the ranks to ADIC by being clueless—you know there's something off. If you believed this was about the CC murders you'd have had John Lamb running it."

Porter left his vigil by the window and seated himself in one of the chairs in front of her desk. He leaned toward her, his gaze intent. "Why the big push to have Benson go UC as Jennifer Randolph…? Where did that come from…? And why drag me into this, Connie…? I'm homeland security."

Porter had his own ideas about all this, but he wanted to hear Putnam's take on it. He hadn't been able to shake the feeling he was being kept in the dark. He would've refused to accept the role as handler outright, if she hadn't given an immutable directive to recruit Olivia Benson to go UC as Jennifer Randolph… He'd had a sneaking suspicion Olivia was more than bait. This had all the hallmarks of something much more personal: He came to believe Olivia was, in fact, the target. And as professional as he was—and as hard as he tried to fight it—he had a soft spot for 'tough as nails' Detective Olivia Benson... and if she was in any kind of danger he wasn't about to hang her out to dry. So he waited, hoping ADIC Putnam might enlighten him.

"You know I shouldn't even be talking to you, Dean… You should be communicating with me through Frank… He's your handler—by your own choice, I might add. Why aren't you at Crestview with Detective Benson?"

"Why are you avoiding my questions, Connie?" Porter's dark eyes grew even darker, as comprehension dawned. He slowly stood up and placed his hands on her desk, leaning in close. "You know something—something you can't divulge… at least not to me. Someone else is feeding you information—about me. Something that casts doubt on my part in this…"

Putnam averted her eyes. No accusation had been made, but Lamb had questioned the means by which Porter had attained the intel—just enough to make her wonder herself. And he'd expressed concern that Porter'd given up his role as handler, insisting he go UC with Detective Benson instead. Putnam had her own concerns—not the least of which was the fact that they'd broken protocol and set up what they believed could turn out to be a 'bogus' sting… That in itself was enough to keep her up nights. "You better head back to Crestview, Dean," she said quietly. She lifted her head and held his gaze. "And keep your eye on Detective Benson until I figure out what in hell is going on."

* * *

Elliot listened to the ring tone in his ear, waiting for Cragen to pick up. He hadn't heard from his former Captain before the end of the day—as he'd hoped he might... So now he was checking in himself to see if Rollins, or Munch and Fin had found anything that might answer a few questions for them.

He heard the phone pick up and Cragen's voice. "Elliot… I was just getting ready to call you. We need to meet. I don't suppose you and Liv can make a trip into the city tomorrow and sit down with the guys for an hour or so…? Rollins came across something you're gonna find pretty interesting."

"Hey, Cap. That's great! I'd actually like to run a few things by you anyway… some of the stuff we've been kicking around. I'm not so sure Liv will be able to get away, but I think Frank and I could arrange it. What time are you thinking?"

"The earlier the better…"

"Okay… I'll check with Frank and see what we can do."

"Elliot… If possible, bring Liv too."

* * *

**Tuesday, December 4****th **

"Dammit, pick up the phone, John." ADIC Putnam had been trying to reach Special Agent John Lamb ever since Porter had left her office last evening. She'd left an urgent message for him, stressing the importance of contacting her immediately—no matter how late the hour. She couldn't ignore the nagging sense that there was more than one monkey wrench in this tool box… She no longer believed the undercover operation had anything to do with the unsub in the Country Club murders, but she'd be damned if she could figure out exactly what _was_ going on: There was no clear indication as to who the target was, and they certainly didn't know who the hell they were looking for.

Someone had a personal agenda, and it looked more and more like Olivia Benson was at the heart of it. She couldn't share with Porter that John Lamb had been the one to _insist_ that Benson and Stabler go UC as the Randolphs—or his insistence that Porter be the handler. And now she couldn't reach him. Unfortunately, Putnam had nowhere to turn: The two sources she'd trusted had become suspects themselves, and she couldn't turn to one without risking the possibility she'd be tipping the scales in the favor of the wrong man. And if she turned to anyone else she'd have to admit to setting the whole thing in motion—before she had any proof it'd been a good decision.

She wrestled once again with the question that had begun to haunt her: If Olivia Benson was indeed the target of some personal vendetta shouldn't they pull her—or at the very least, make her aware of it…? It wasn't ethical that she be an unwitting target. She sighed, knowing that the 'powers that be' wouldn't share her spate of conscience. They'd be furious… they'd see dollar signs first—god knows this was an expensive operation—and convince themselves she already knew she was the target: What difference did it make that the perpetrator might be someone other than the 'CC Murders' unsub—and the agenda frighteningly personal?

* * *

Olivia emerged from her shower, carefully moving around the bathroom, wrapping herself in the biggest towel she could find before making her way to her bedroom. Thankfully, Frank had been as good as his word, and he and Morales had shown up with Elliot last evening just before midnight. The cameras had, indeed, been readjusted… Morales had very slightly changed the floor-to-ceiling parameters on two of them—the one trained on the bed and the one trained on her shower—leaving the third untouched. But this time he left them with more view of their intended targets—hoping the adjustment wouldn't be detected—and Olivia needed to be even more cautious of her movements. Morales had patiently explained to her that the cameras were motion-activated, with custom-installed night vision… Whoever set them up knew what he was doing. Olivia almost wished he hadn't given her the information.

The other cameras were left untouched, as before. If this was Dean's doing, they didn't want him to know Olivia was on to him. They were concerned that he—or whoever was responsible for their placement—had seen enough to know that Elliot was spending the nights with her. Although it could be explained by the fact that they were a couple and just wanted to be together, it didn't say much for their professionalism—but hopefully it wouldn't tip their hand with Dean. And if they'd truly been placed by the unsub, it was likely he'd think she was having an affair with Zach Thomas. If that were the case, the real question was 'how the hell had he slipped by all the surveillance cameras without being detected?' She rushed through her morning routine, wanting to be out of camera range as soon as possible.

At least she had a legitimate excuse for making a trip into Manhattan: Andi Hobbs' invitation to join her and a few of the ladies she'd met at brunch yesterday was perfect. Initially horrified by the idea, especially considering the Holiday shoppers that would abound, her first inclination had been to make any excuse to get out of it… But knowing it would be a good way to become acquainted, her professionalism had prevailed; the 'Housewives of Hempstead,' as she'd dubbed them, could be an invaluable source of information. She'd called Andi this morning letting her know her plans had changed, but she could still meet them for lunch. Andi was thrilled that she hadn't bailed altogether, and Olivia had the excuse she needed to join Elliot at the 16th Precinct.

She'd contacted him and they made plans to meet at the precinct at nine-thirty, giving her plenty of time with Cragen and crew before meeting Andi at twelve-thirty. Frank and Elliot would travel together and Olivia would transport herself, since she wouldn't be returning with them and she didn't want to be at Andi's mercy. She'd been anxious to _really_ try out the BMW anyway—somewhere other than around town—and Dean would expect her car to be gone.

She hurriedly dressed—something appropriate for a December day in the city; then she quickly did her hair and make-up. She took a final look in the full-length mirror, hoping to god she could pass for a Long Island socialite. Making her way to the kitchen, she found Porter sitting at the breakfast nook with a cup of coffee and the local paper, looking morose.

"Good morning, _Jason_."

"Mornin' Li, uh, _Jennifer," _he corrected, as she arched an eyebrow at him. "There's coffee on," he said, indicating the coffee maker on the counter.

"Thanks." She felt his eyes on her as she selected a mug from the cupboard and poured the aromatic brew into it, adding sugar and a dollop of cream. "What's going on, _Jason_? You don't look very happy this morning."

He met her gaze—his face unreadable—as she settled on the bench across from him. After a moment he gave a lop-sided grin—minus the smirk that had been prevalent for the past several days. "Kinda hard to be happy when your _wife_ hates you," he quipped, apparently attempting to be funny.

"Really…? I had no idea you cared," she retorted, trying to keep it light—but his comment and lack of attitude had thrown her a little. "What's really going on, _Jason_? Have you heard anything…? Has there been any action at all since the party?"

"No. Nothing. Did Elliot or Frank have anything to report?"

"No… afraid not," she allowed, knowing they were talking about totally different subjects. "I'm hoping I'll pick up something from Andi and 'the girls' today." Her sarcasm wasn't lost on Porter.

"You really dread this, don't you?"

"I'd rather sweat a perp for hours any day than spend lunchtime with a bunch of bored, high society housewives," she sighed.

He smiled over at her, amusement in his eyes. "I guess I see your point… I'd definitely go with the perp." His eyes softened. "You look lovely, _Jennifer."_

Olivia narrowed her eyes. "Don't you _dare_ go there with me," she warned, as she slid out from the bench and stood up. "That ship sailed… _Jason_."

Something close to sadness flashed across his face—so brief, she questioned if she'd seen it at all—but he didn't break eye contact and he didn't apologize. "We still need to talk about it, Olivia," he said quietly, intentionally using her name. "I need closure—even if you don't."

"You don't deserve closure…" she said harshly. She hesitated, just for a moment, her stance softening. "When this is over..." she whispered, as she turned and grabbed her purse and coat, heading for the door.

"Oh, Li… _Jennifer. _We're having dinner at the club tonight—we need to spend as much time there as we can. Will you be home in time to change and head out by seven?"

She knew he was right, as much as she dreaded it. She tossed her answer over her shoulder as she headed out the door. "Yeah… See you a little after six."

* * *

Traffic was light since she'd missed rush hour, and the car handled like a dream. She got lost in her thoughts of Dean Porter, frustrated that he chose now—three years later—to decide _he_ needed closure. What an ass! But she wasn't quite sure if she was referring to Porter, or herself—for agreeing to talk to him. And if she was willing to have that conversation with him, could she possibly believe he meant her any harm? Olivia was so lost in her thoughts she found herself pulling up to the precinct before she knew it. She parked and got out, locking the doors as she stepped away from the car.

"Hey, beautiful..."

She heard him before she saw him and a smile played at her lips as she lifted her eyes to watch him make his way to her side. "That was good timing."

Elliot took her in his arms. With the readjustment of cameras, his ability to move freely in the bedroom had been severely curtailed. They could safely sit together on the settee, but they'd not slept together in the bed. There was no way he'd leave her alone, and he'd spent a less than comfortable night on an old air mattress Frank had come up with—safely out of range of the cameras, and packed up early this morning; but he'd missed being in her bed and holding her. He reached down and planted a scorching kiss on her lips, not caring that there were people—including Frank—all around them.

"If I gotta watch you two make out all the time, I'm gonna start gettin' jealous," Frank groused as he walked over to them. "Jesus, Stabler you've got a one-track mind." He gave Olivia a wink, a touch of deviltry in his eye. "Course no man could hardly blame you."

"Morning, Frank…" she said, her smile uncharacteristically shy. Elliot reluctantly released his hold on her and reached down to take her hand, interlocking their fingers as they headed into the precinct.

They met Cragen as he was tearing out of his office, obviously having been called away. "Find an empty interrogation room and make yourselves comfortable. Liv, grab an incident board and get started without us," he instructed. "Sorry, we're gonna be tied up for about a half hour."

Elliot and Frank set up the incident board while Olivia rounded up three cups of coffee, and the three of them went to work. Frank handed Olivia the list they'd made the afternoon before, and she walked to the board to write out the bullet points of the three men they were focusing on.

"You know, I've been going over Huang's assessment of the unsub, and there are some parallels to Porter." Elliot watched Olivia to see what her reaction would be to his words, but she continued writing and made no response.

Frank gave him a look of skepticism. "Are you sayin' you think Porter could actually be the unsub in the Country Club murders? Don't you think that's a little far-fetched, Stabler?"

"Just hear me out… I'm telling you—there are a lot of points in that profile that match."

"Wanna share what they are, or are we gonna play guessin' games…?"

Elliot looked over at Olivia, but she continued writing on the board. "Okay. Number one." Elliot started counting them off on his fingers. "He's a white male in the right age bracket. Number two. He's obviously smart and definitely organized. Three. He's attractive and single."

Olivia finally looked up at him, trying to hide a grin. "You think he's attractive, huh…" she teased. Elliot chose to ignore her.

"Number four. He has a successful career in law enforcement. Five. He's electronically and technically savvy. Six. He sure seems comfortable in the Country Club setting… You can tell by the way he dresses he's used to spending a lot of money on his clothes and shoes—even his watch." He hesitated before he continued, trying to catch Olivia's eye—knowing she'd probably be pissed when he gave the next one. "Number seven. He could've had a relationship with a beautiful woman but used his career as an excuse not to."

Olivia's eyes shot to his, and he heard her slight intake of breath. She held his gaze for a moment, but he couldn't read her. Without saying anything, she turned back to the board and continued to write.

"That rings true for an awful lotta guys out there, Stabler… You'd need a whole lot more'n that to convince me. Besides, Benson doesn't exactly fit the MO of the victim… I mean, she's not rich, she's not a narcissistic bitch, and she's got no husband—at least not yet," he chuckled, sending a knowing look her way.

"No, you're right, Frank." Olivia returned his smile. "But I do have a man who adores me…" Her gaze rested on Elliot. "…and has for as long as Porter's known me. And he drove Porter away—_that's_ pretty personal. And in _Porter's_ eyes I probably am a narcissistic bitch… or at least a _bitch_," she admitted with a rueful grin.

"That would mean you're _both_ targets."

"Yeah," she said softly.

Frank just shook his head, obviously contemplating the possibility. "What do we know about his background…? I mean, do you know anything about his childhood?" He was directing the question to Olivia.

"I really don't… He never said anything about it. But we never got to the stage where it would've come up."

Elliot had stood up and was leaning with his back against the two-way window. "I'd sure like to know where he was during each of the thirteen murders. There must be a way to trace it, Frank. Think you could get your hands on that information?"

"I'll make it a point to…" he said, looking up as Amanda Rollins stepped into the room, followed closely by Don Cragen.

"Fin and Munch will be in shortly," Cragen announced. He and Rollins both pulled out chairs and seated themselves, looking at the lists on the board with curiosity. He nodded toward the board. "I see you've been busy."

"Yeah, we have…" Olivia sighed. "Frank, this is Detective Amanda Rollins. Amanda, Special Agent Franklin Barrett."

Frank nodded to Cragen as he stood up to shake the hand Rollins offered. He glanced over at Olivia, before returning his gaze to Rollins. "Please, call me Frank. You and Detective Benson sure do improve the scenery around here... Very pleased to meet you, Detective Rollins."

She grinned back at him, a tinge of pink staining her cheeks. "Likewise, Frank… And please… call me Amanda."

Elliot greeted them both before he turned to Cragen. "So what do you have for us, Cap? I'm guessing it's something you think is viable or you wouldn't have asked us here…" His eyes were hopeful, as he looked from one to the other of them, his gaze lingering on the file Rollins had sitting on the table in front of her.

"You're gonna want to see this, Elliot." The look he gave him was sobering.

Rollins glanced at Cragen, who gave a slight nod. "I had a devil of a time findin' info on Crestview, but I finally came up with the name of the current owner…" She opened the file running her finger down the printed lines on a document inside. "Let's see—a _John Lamb_."

The room went quiet until Frank broke the silence with a loud, "Goddamn…!" He looked first at Olivia and then Elliot. "I knew he was our _tie_ to th'community, but I sure as hell didn't expect he was the _owner _of Crestview."

Rollins observed the shock on their faces before asking the obvious question. "Who _is_ John Lamb?"

Olivia raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Elliot, indicating he should field the question. Elliot scrubbed a hand down over his face, shaking his head in disbelief before responding. "Special Agent John Lamb was one of my instructors at Quantico." Rollins started to say something, but Elliot held up his hand. "There's more—seems he's good buddies with Lt. Tucker of the IAB…" he said with a sneer. "He apparently went to Tucker to see if he could recommend anyone from SVU who could go UC as Jennifer Randolph—and he recommended Olivia. It appears he's shared quite a bit of information about this op with that weasel… Even brought him to the country club the first night she was under."

Rollins looked from Elliot to Cragen, suddenly understanding the serious implications of the information she'd found. "Wow… This the same Lamb as the one up there on the board…?" Before anyone could answer, there was a knock on the door and Munch and Fin stepped into the room. "Is this a good time Captain?" Munch lowered his glasses as he took in the crew seated around the table.

"Yes, yes… come in. Frank, this is Sergeant John Munch and Detective Odafin Tutuola… Guys, this is Special Agent Franklin Barrett." The three men shook hands and said their respective 'hellos' while Munch and Fin seated themselves at the table, nodding to Elliot and Olivia. Munch set three files on the table in front of him.

Frank turned to Rollins and gestured to the board. "To answer your question, Amanda… Yes, that is the same_ Lamb_." They all turned their attention to the bullet point list titled 'Lamb' and spent a few moments absorbing the information.

Cragen broke the silence. "John, what have you and Fin got for us."

"Right now, not much… Not really sure what we're looking for. We did come up with three names from old cases that have or have had a connection to Hempstead, though. Hopefully, you'll be able to make some kind of tie-in." He reached for the files and opened the first one. "Dr. Mike Jergens. The case was November of two thousand-five." He peered over his glasses at Olivia. "You remember, Liv? You went undercover as Rachel Martin on that speed-dating thing… and after, he targeted you for rape."

Olivia sighed and rubbed at her temples, as though trying to relieve a headache. "Yeah. I remember."

"It was your work on the case and your testimony that eventually helped put him away for a few years… He lost his practice. He grew up on Long Island—near Hempstead..." He looked meaningfully at her. "He could certainly be carrying a grudge."

Elliot watched Olivia, wishing she'd never been drawn into this mess—and for the first time, wondering what it might be like to retire and take her away from it all. He turned his attention to Munch. "What else do you have for us, John?"

Munch closed the 'Jergens' file and opened another. "This is even before that… February of two thousand-three. This involved both of you." He glanced from Elliot to Olivia. "The lovely Lamerly clan… Remember Grandma Lamerly…? Provided prostitutes for her underage grandson, Drew…? And eventually he threw one off the balcony of the penthouse."

"Oh, yeah… She was a piece of work." This from Elliot. "But I don't see this being as personal as Jergens... Do you, Liv?"

"No. What's their connection?"

Fin spoke for the first time. "They're th' only ones who actually had a house in Hempstead: Could be some connection… but not likely."

"And last—and probably least: Gabriel Duvall. May, two thousand-three. But I don't see any tie. He's still in prison, and his mother's deceased. But they did have property about twenty-five miles from Hempstead."

Fin pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and leaned forward, addressing both Elliot and Olivia. "I looked into a couple more recent cases… None of 'em got ties to Long Island or Hempstead, but one or botha you guys was threatened by 'em."

John leaned back in his chair. He peered over at Fin, one eyebrow raised—an air of scrutiny in his demeanor. "When did you find time to do more research, Tutuola…? You must have been burning the midnight oil, my friend." Amusement played across his face.

Fin shot him a look that effectively silenced him, and looked down at the paper in his hand. "In two thousand-ten, there're two cases where one or botha you was ordered to stand down, or a order of protection was issued." He looked from one to the other, and focused on Olivia. "Liv, you r'member Anne Gillette...? Murdered her parents for money, and ordered a hit on you an' Ash Ramsey? She's still in prison—but she's one cold bitch. Worth lookin' into…"

Olivia nodded, and Fin continued—this time addressing Elliot. "An' later that same year, in May: Anton Petrov—you r'member him…?" They both nodded, and Elliot leaned back in his chair, one arm resting on the table—his hand around his coffee cup; his look, pensive. "I know he's in prison, an' it might be a little far-fetched, but tha' bastard's got long arms and deep pockets… And a hell of a lotta time t' think 'bout grudges." He paused for a moment, looking down at the paper, before turning his attention back to Olivia. "I know it ain't much, but I'm gonna do a little checkin' into both of 'em. An' Liv, I'm gonna look at Delia Wilson. It won't hurt nothin' to check her out."

Olivia reached over and took his hand, smiling into his eyes—her look of affection and appreciation warming his heart, and causing Elliot to squirm. "Thanks Fin. I appreciate it."

* * *

After Rollins, Munch and Fin left, Olivia, Elliot and Frank spent some time with Cragen, going over Lamb's bullet point list—in light of the new information about his ownership of Crestview. Unfortunately, it didn't really change anything: They'd known he'd had access to Crestview, even if they hadn't known he owned it. There were still too many missing pieces.

"Goddamn! Wish we could sit down and talk to th' man," Frank complained bitterly. "I'll work on that s'more with Putnam. Maybe she needs to hear 'bout his ties to Tucker…" He looked expectantly at the other three.

"It's worth a try, Frank." Elliot stood and stretched, working out some of the tension taking up residence in his neck and shoulders. "I wanna go over Tucker and Porter with you, too, Cap… Just get your input while we're right here."

"Yeah, I'm interested in what you've come up with."

The next hour or so was spent looking at what they had from every angle the four could come up with… but nothing resonated with any of them as being viable without more information. They finally agreed they'd exhausted the possibilities until something new was added to the mix.

"I'm gonna see what gossip the 'Housewives of Hempstead' might have about Crestview," Olivia offered, rolling her eyes.

"I know the information Munch and Fin provided is a long shot, but I'm still gonna have them follow-up with a little more research on all six of the cases they referenced." Cragen looked worn, his concern for the two detectives he considered family evident in the worry lines etched around his eyes.

They agreed there wasn't much more to discuss, and wrapped things up in plenty of time for Olivia to make it to lunch.

* * *

Lunch with Andi and crew was every bit as irritating as Olivia had expected it would be—except for one thing: The 'Housewives of Hempstead' did have a very interesting tidbit about Crestview: Information that tied into one of the cases Munch and Fin had targeted.

It was early enough that she could arrange to meet Frank and Elliot at the gym before she needed to get back to Porter and change for dinner: She sat in her car, holding her phone to her ear—impatiently waiting for Elliot to pick up on the other end.

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading. I'll try really hard to post Chapter 10 on Wednesday, but if I don't manage it, it will be up next Sunday. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey everyone! Thanks for following the story thus far... and thanks for the reviews. It's heating up, and I didn't want to disappoint, so although this chapter is a little shorter than the last few, (it still falls within my goal of 3200 to 3500 words), I thought you'd appreciate it now, rather than waiting 'til Sunday. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 10**

Olivia burst through the door of Elliot's office, where he and Frank were eagerly waiting for her to join them. She'd finally reached him by phone on her way back from the city, and Elliot had arranged for the three of them to meet. He had some news to share, too, and he was anxious to get started.

He stood and drew her close enough to give her a quick squeeze and a peck on the lips. "Can I get something for you to drink before we get started, Liv?"

She divested herself of her coat and scarf and sat down. "Yeah. Bottled water… please."

Before she'd gotten the words out, Elliot handed one to her with a grin. "I knew that's what you'd want."

She nodded her appreciation with a soft smile. She sat down, looking from one man to the other, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, as she twisted the cap off her bottle of water. "In spite of being one of the most god-awful lunches I've ever been forced to sit through, my time was well spent. They provided some invaluable information."

Frank grinned over at her. "Then you weren't tortured too bad..." he observed.

"I didn't say that…" she chuckled, rolling her eyes at him. "But at least I got something in return, for my effort."

"So what'd they tell ya that's got you grinnin' like the cat that ate the canary, Benson?"

"Wait… Did you guys get anything?" she asked, taking no small delight in noting her delay tactics were beginning to frustrate the two men.

Elliot watched her, grinning at the kick she was getting out of it. "Yeah. Yeah… as a matter of fact, I do have something to bring to the table. And I believe Frank has something to offer as well. But… Ladies first."

"Okay. You ready for this…?"

"Olivia!" Both men huffed in exasperation.

"Crestview belonged to Candace Lamerly."

Elliot's eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline—no small feat these days. "Wait… The Candace Lamerly Munch was talking about today? I assume you…"

"Hey, guys… Slow down," Frank protested.

Elliot turned to Frank. "The one who hired prostitutes for her grandson…" he said, by way of explanation.

"Seriously…? How d'ya know it's the same Lamerly?" Frank's voice denoted some skepticism.

"Based on the conversation, I don't have any doubt. Besides, remember Fin said they were the only ones who actually owned property in Hempstead."

Elliot stood to pace, as though the information was too much to digest while sitting down. "So how'd John Lamb end up owning it?"

"I've already spoken to Don… He's gonna have Munch research it and get back to us."

Elliot grinned over at Frank. "I'd say she takes the cake today!"

"Olivia smirked. "So what'd you guys come up with?"

"You've got the floor, Stabler," Frank said, leaning back in his chair.

Elliot sat back down, rubbing both hands over the rough stubble on his jaw. "I spent the afternoon with Gavin McBride… We were compiling information we've been gathering with the cameras. Nothing exciting to report yet—a couple of leads he's gonna pursue, but nothing of real interest." Olivia impatiently quirked a brow at him. "Sorry… Anyway, I figured I might as well pick his brain—find out what he knew about Lamb."

"…And?"

"Seems Lamb's the expert on the Country Club Murders… He's worked every one of 'em from the beginning."

"Goddamn!" Frank slapped the table for emphasis.

"Apparently he's comfortable in that setting… Knows how to talk to the upper crust."

Olivia was incredulous. "So why the hell isn't he running this sting?"

Frank looked from Olivia to Elliot before speaking. "How do we know he isn't…? Maybe that's why he stopped by the other night."

"He may be running it, but right now he looks guiltier than Porter," Elliot pointed out. "…unless the two of them are in it together."

Olivia's euphoric mood had quickly evaporated as she was brought back to the reality of the situation. "To what end, though…? It doesn't make any sense." She raked her fingers through her hair in frustration.

"Let's take a look at it," Frank insisted. "Now we add to 'Lamb's' list: Owns Crestview; worked all thirteen CC murders—so he'd certainly know how to manipulate the information; he might be related to the 'Lamerly's—who were clearly unstable. What else...?"

Olivia spoke up. "If he comes from a wealthy, _unstable _background, he works for the FBI, has technical skills, and is comfortable consorting with the country club set… That's five items on the profile list of the unsub—without even thinking about it."

"He's a little out of the age bracket… But do we really think this is related to the CC Murders?" Elliot was growing more agitated as they mulled over the possibilities. "You know… I hated that we were forced to let Porter know there were cameras in the Master Suite—or that _we_ knew there were cameras there. But if we hadn't told him, and _he_ _didn't_ put them there…" He hesitated for a moment. "…and it turns out we're _actually_ dealing with the Country Club murders—an unsub would've been damn suspicious to never see the 'Randolphs' in the Bedroom Suite together. Now I'm kinda glad we told him."

Frank picked up on Elliot's line of thought. "Lamb has the technical knowhow and opportunity to have placed them there. Except—he obviously knows Porter and Olivia _aren't _the Randolphs. This doesn't make any fucking sense." He turned his attention to Olivia. "I don't suppose Porter has offered any thoughts on who may have put the cameras in the bedroom…?"

"No… But we don't talk a lot. He's more of a brooder—sullen and moody." Olivia attempted a smile, but didn't succeed. "But we're very careful to _act_ the 'loving couple' every night at bedtime—in full view of the cameras." She looked nervously over at Elliot, knowing this was not information he wanted to hear.

"Porter doesn't seem to be connecting with anyone except ADIC Putnam," Frank observed. "Course, I'm bettin' you don't exactly try to draw him out," he said, looking in Olivia's direction before turning to Elliot. "And you make it pretty damn clear he'd better steer clear of you. And I've been treatin' him like th'enemy… So he hasn't exactly had opportunity to brainstorm with any of us—no wonder he's goin' to Putnam."

"Oh god, I've gotta get going… We're having dinner at the club tonight," Olivia groaned, looking at her watch as she pulled herself to her feet.

"That means we're on duty too." Elliot started to rise from his chair. "Hey… what did you find out today, Frank?"

"I randomly checked five CC murder dates, and Porter couldn't possibly have been anywhere around. His alibis are rock solid." Frank scrubbed his hand down over his face and shook his head. "I'm thinkin' we better start playin' nice with Porter, kiddies."

Elliot helped Olivia into her coat. "I'm gonna walk her to the door, Frank."

Frank chuckled and winked at Olivia. "Sure you are, Stabler… I'll see you at the club. G'night, Olivia."

She grinned and winked back at him. "Good night, Frank."

Elliot wrapped his arm around her and they walked toward the exit closest to her parked car. He stopped her before they reached the door, and pulled her into his arms. "I need some alone time with my baby," he murmured, holding her close. "Think you could sneak out tonight for a little while…? Maybe come to the cottage. I'll make sure Frank's out of the way."

Olivia leaned into him. "Mmmm, that sounds really nice. I miss you, too, El." She reached up and brought her lips to his, completely unaware of the eyes that watched them from the shadows.

* * *

The man standing in the shadows held a cell phone to his ear. He had no problem maintaining low visibility: He was right where he was expected to be, guarding the safety of the couple he was watching. "No, I told you… Stabler's not under as her husband—Porter is… But she's meeting with him and Barrett, and I'm pretty sure Putnam and Porter aren't aware of it; I'm telling you, they know something's up."

He paused for a moment, obviously listening, but his body language betrayed his frustration. "I'm just saying, the sooner we make the hit, the better," he hissed. "…before they figure it out. I'm not going down for this—I don't care how much we're being paid." His agitation increased, and he nearly spit the next words. "And you can pass this on to whoever's running this show: If they want a third body, the price just went up." With that, he closed the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket, as he watched Olivia Benson leave the building, and Elliot Stabler head back to 'his' office.

* * *

Olivia had checked one more time to be sure Porter had gone up to his bedroom on the third floor. She knew it was ridiculous, because her bedroom door would be locked—just like every other night. But leaving the house left her feeling more exposed. And Porter had seemed different tonight: She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was an air of uncertainty about him that she'd never detected before… When they'd performed their nightly ritual for the cameras, he'd been gentle with her—almost reluctant to leave. His kiss had been tender and lingering, until she'd finally pulled away from him… The whole evening had left her unsettled. She couldn't wait to be in Elliot's arms.

She quietly made her way down the balcony steps, as Elliot emerged from the shadows. "Hey, beautiful," he whispered, pulling her to him. He wasn't about to allow her to make her way to the cottage unattended. The grounds were fairly well lit, but they needed to stay in the shadows and avoid the security cameras. He knew the way without the aid of light... And unlike Olivia, he carried a weapon.

The walk only took five minutes on a path he'd discovered days earlier, and they soon walked into the clearing just outside the cottage. It was well-hidden by the trees and brush that grew around it. It apparently no longer warranted the careful grooming that the rest of the property received—which worked in their favor. Elliot had covered the windows with dark plastic, in order to run a few lights and the monitor, without drawing attention. But tonight, he'd opted for candlelight.

He drew her through the door, and she gasped at the cozy scene before her. The room they'd walked into was the sitting room, complete with a fireplace. There were several candles burning softly, and the fire gave off a warm glow, the logs crackling merrily as they burned. Elliot had placed several blankets covered with a thick comforter in front of it, with pillows scattered around. Close by were two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.

"Oh, El, when did you find time to do all this?" Her voice was choked with emotion as she wrapped her arms around him smiling tearily into his eyes.

"As soon as Morales changed the parameters on the camera, and I knew I couldn't be in your bed, I started planning... Seems you're a habit I have no intention of breaking, baby." He gave her a cocky grin and lowered his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. She groaned and surrendered herself to him, her need as great as his own. They quickly shed their coats and he pulled her back into his arms. "What do you need tonight, baby," he whispered seductively in her ear, his breath hot and moist, sending shivers through to her core.

She knew what he wanted from her: He wanted to please her, and he loved to hear in detail how she wanted him to take her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she nuzzled into him. "I need you, El—just you." Her voice was sultry—a smoky whisper—and he felt his cock begin to stir. "I've missed being able to just be ourselves—I don't wanna be Jennifer when I'm with you." She cradled her hands on either side of his face and drew him to her, kissing him with a slow, sweet passion. Taking her time, she urged him to open to her, engaging their tongues in a dance that left her wet and needing more. "I need your touch, El… I want your warm, wet mouth on my breasts and your tongue on my nipples. I wanna feel your naked body on top of mine, covering every inch of me—I want all of you pressing into all of me. And I want you inside me, Elliot," she whispered into his ear, her voice throaty with desire. "I need you to take me slow… and hard… and deep. Please, babe, I want you to make me scream tonight."

* * *

**Wednesday, December 5****th**

"Frank, I don't know what you expect me to do… I can't reach the man!" The unflappable ADIC Putnam was clearly fighting to keep her usual cool demeanor.

"Okay, okay… I get it. But there're some things you need to hear—and I didn't make a run into the city to leave without you hearin' me out."

She looked across the desk at him and gestured to the chair in front of it. "Then calm down and sit, Frank." She took her glasses off and laid them on the desk, wearily rubbing a hand over her eyes. "What do you have…?"

Frank pulled the chair closer and sat down, leaning forward and resting his arms on the desk. "Christ, Connie… I don't even know where to begin, but it's time you were brought into this, so here goes. I've got some concerns 'bout Agent Lamb you need to hear."

Putnam cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead..."

Frank cleared his throat, hoping to god he was making the right decision by coming to her. Elliot had been hesitant, but they'd discussed it and finally decided since she was their boss, it was time to bring her up to speed. Presumably it would help their cause... especially now that they'd all but eliminated Porter as a person of interest.

"First off, I've been working with Detective Benson and Special Agent Stabler—and we're pretty sure there's somethin' hinky 'bout this op." She started to say something, but Frank held up his hand. "I don't see any way in hell this can be 'bout the Country Club Murders, 'cept as a damn clever way to set someone up—someone like Detective Benson and Agent Stabler... We been looking into it an' everywhere we turn, Lamb's name comes up."

He clearly had Putnam's attention. "Give me examples, Frank."

"Let's start with the fact that he owns Crestview. Are you aware of that…?"

"I am…"

Frank gave her a wary look and continued. "He's worked every Country Club murder case from the beginning, from Texas to New York—yet he isn't workin' this one. Why is that...?"

"Keep going, Frank. We'll come back to it when you're done."

"All right—Stabler was his student at Quantico, but he failed to mention that to his good buddy Lieutenant Ed Tucker of the Internal Affairs Bureau when he went to him to ask about Benson—even after Tucker pointed out Benson and Stabler'd been partners and were real close. Oh, and he shares what should be 'classified' information—_with_ Tucker. We learned from Tucker that Lamb was our link to Crestview and the Hempstead community—and if I'm not mistaken, Lamb was pretty unhappy he'd spilled it to us. He showed up the first night Benson and Stabler were UC, draggin' Tucker with him—to an undercover op, for god's sake! And then acted all pissed off that Stabler wasn't under as Jason Randolph… Why the hell could it possibly matter to him?"

Putnam looked thoughtful then gestured for him to keep going.

"He's apparently got strong ties to a case Benson and Stabler worked in two thousand three: The mother of the perp in that case, a Candace Lamerly, was the previous owner of Crestview. We're tryin' to find out what his relationship is to the Lamerlys."

She raised an eyebrow and indicated he should continue.

"It appears he's got a lot in common with the profile Dr. Huang gave of the Country Club Murders' unsub." Frank leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his hand down over his jaw before sitting forward again to look Putnam in the eye. "Connie, someone has bugged the Master Suite at Crestview with state of the art, motion-activated cameras—installed _after_ we put in our surveillance equipment... And coincidentally, Lamb teaches technical surveillance at Quantico." He looked away for a moment. "And last, but not least—he's disappeared and can't be reached." He slumped back in the chair, expecting Putnam to respond.

ADIC Putnam sat quietly, contemplating the information Frank had just shared, while he waited impatiently for her to comment on his concerns about Lamb. Finally she pushed her chair away from her desk and stood up. "Frank… I want you to arrange to bring Detective Benson, Agent Stabler and Agent Porter here this afternoon. See if Huang's available, too. And see if you can get any more information about the previous owner of Crestview. Let's meet back here at two o'clock." She walked towards the door as Frank stood up, understanding the meeting was over and he was being dismissed. Before she closed the door behind him, she spoke again. "Frank… I'll try to contact Lamb. I'd like to know what in hell's going on, too."

* * *

John Lamb checked the messages on his cell phone noting there were three more from ADIC Putnam. He listened to them, each new message more demanding and threatening than the one before it. He shook his head, and set the phone back on the desk since he wouldn't be returning the calls. He regretted he had to ignore her, but he had a mission, and he wasn't about to abandon it. He knew no one would find him—he'd made certain of that. He turned his attention back to Olivia Benson—she must be preparing to go out again. God, she was a beautiful woman… But he couldn't afford to be side-tracked—not before his mission was completed.

* * *

Olivia dressed hurriedly, wanting to be out of camera range as soon as possible. She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she and Porter would be driving to the city to meet with Elliot and Frank in the Assistant Director's office… The whole thing was surreal—like a strange dream where nothing is as it should be, and yet it doesn't seem to be wrong.

Once again, she longed for this op to be over. She was beginning to worry about Christmas… It would be her first with Elliot and they'd be sharing it with his children. There was still so much to be done to prepare, and she hoped this would be wrapped up and wouldn't keep them away for the entire holiday. And she'd be turning forty-five in a little over a week… Forty-five—it made her just a little sick to think about it. But it was also the first time she could remember ever being in a serious relationship on her birthday. She felt silly, but she had to admit she was excited about spending it with Elliot.

Her thoughts were all over the place as she left her suite in search of Porter to see if he was ready to go... completely unaware that she was the focus of not one, but two pairs of eyes.

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading! Chapter 11 will be posted on Sunday.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks once again to my readers and reviewers... You're much appreciated!**

**Chapter 11**

Dean Porter was working hard to keep his temper in check… mostly for the sake of Olivia. He knew he'd acted like a prick when she first came on, and he deserved any misgivings she had about him. Once she understood his reasons for it, she might forgive him. But Stabler would never forgive him after the incident with Rojas… or the fact there'd been a mutual attraction between him and Olivia—even though they'd never acted on it. But he was tired of being treated like the enemy—it was starting to annoy him. "I'm just saying it would've been nice to have had some of this information!"

"All right… Everyone settle down and let's try to remember we're on the same team here." ADIC Putnam looked as exhausted as she felt, and she was in no mood to play moderator to her bickering agents. "We need to focus on the problem at hand. John Lamb hasn't responded to any of my efforts to reach him. We don't know if he's willfully ignoring us or if he's in trouble… So until we figure it out—I suggest you put your differences aside and work together."

Porter sat down, and Elliot leaned back in his chair, while Olivia gave a sideways glance at Frank and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Huang had been unavailable, but the four of them had been meeting with ADIC Putnam for the past forty-five minutes.

"We've already gone over a lot of information… What you may not know is how this whole thing came about: Agent Porter received an anonymous telephone call containing enough viable information that he brought it to my attention; I made the decision to launch this op. And that's where we'll start. What I now need to understand, Dean, is the driving force behind some of your actions since receiving that call."

"I'll tell you what I know, Connie—but I suspect there are factors I wasn't made aware of…" He leaned forward, his arms resting on the table, and looked down at the pencil he was lightly tapping on the piece of paper in front of him. He cleared his throat and looked back at Putnam. "It didn't make sense to me that I'd received that call instead of you or John Lamb… or somebody who'd worked these cases—I'm homeland security. But the information was detailed—and viable. So I brought it to your attention." He briefly acknowledged everyone sitting around the table. "I expected that would be the extent of my involvement."

ADIC Putnam picked up the conversation. "I took the information to Agent Lamb. We agreed it needed to be treated as viable intel—and we discussed the parameters for setting up a sting." She looked over at Olivia. "I made a call to an old friend of mine—Agent Dana Lewis. I knew she'd had some dealings with Manhattan's Sexual Victim's Unit, and I asked her if there was anyone she'd recommend for the role of Jennifer Randolph. She recommended you—without hesitation. She also told me you'd done a UC op with Dean Porter in the past, and you and Agent Stabler had worked with him on some SVU cases."

"I'll be sure to thank her." Olivia's tongue in cheek comment gathered a few chuckles and lightened the mood—if only for a moment.

Putnam smiled. "I gave all the information to Agent Lamb, and he wanted to do some research of his own: From what you've told me, Frank, he went to Sergeant Tucker. When he got back to me he told me he owned property in Hempstead. He would loan Crestview to the FBI, and provide access to the Country Club for the op—but he'd need to keep a low profile because he was known in the community. He'd continue to advise me, and I was to be the only contact he'd have for the duration of the sting. In return—he would choose the UC team. He wanted Dean Porter to act as handler. Olivia Benson was to be recruited as Jennifer Randolph, and Agent Stabler would be assigned—by me—as Jason Randolph. He told me it was non-negotiable… Unless those conditions were met, he'd walk away."

The intake of breath around the table was audible, and Frank was the first to comment. "Jesus Christ, Connie… Since when did you start taking orders from a subordinate?"

"Since I went out on a limb to run an op that I knew in the end might prove to be bogus, Frank… I needed John Lamb, and he knew it."

Porter had grown quiet, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. After a moment he looked up at ADIC Putnam. "Connie… Why the hell didn't you tell me this?"

There was a pained expression on her face, but she maintained eye contact with him. "Dean, John was concerned about the manner in which the intel came to us… He wanted to keep you close. He felt it was no accident that it came to you—or _through_ you."

Porter's jaw clenched and the pencil in his hand snapped, but he kept his cool. "So in other words, he thought I'd manufactured the intel. To what end, Connie?"

"He didn't discuss it with me, Dean."

"But you bought into it." His eyes were hooded and his voice accusing.

"No… No I didn't. Not until you fought so hard to go under with Detective Benson, and turned your position over to Frank." Her voice was quiet. "Then I had some misgivings…"

"You know I didn't want to be involved in this from the start. It wasn't until you crammed it down my throat, and insisted that Benson and Stabler go under as the Randolphs that I started to get a little suspicious. We both knew it was unlikely we were dealing with the Country Club murders, Connie—but it was beginning to look like we were dealing with a set-up." He turned to address Olivia. "At the very least, it looked like you were being used as bait—I'd been told you weren't being given a choice. At first I didn't want you to do it and I was gonna try to warn you off—but then it began to look like you might actually be the target… And I knew whoever it was would go after you, no matter where you were. I figured you'd be safer under the nose of the FBI."

Olivia listened carefully as he explained his motivation. "Then why'd you act like such a jackass when I first came on board, Dean?" Her face was a testament to her confusion.

He averted his eyes. "I told you, Liv… We hadn't cleared the air. I knew how pissed you were with me, and we hadn't talked in three years. I hoped if I acted like a jerk you'd call me on it… God knows, you always have in the past. I figured we'd have a blowup and get it all out in the open."

Olivia was mortified that her personal business had been dragged into this conversation, but she still had questions, so she forged ahead. "Did you tap our phones…?"

He didn't need to respond—the shock on his face was answer enough. "When were your phones tapped?" He looked from Olivia to Elliot.

Elliot, who'd been observing the woman he loved in a personal conversation with the man he suspected still had strong feelings for her, had been uncharacteristically quiet. Now he answered Porter—his voice civil, but his words stilted from the effort. "From what we can tell, it was a few days before we were contacted about the operation."

"It wasn't me," Porter said.

Olivia narrowed her eyes, glaring at him with suspicion. "Then how'd you know Elliot asked me to pick up 'Schick 5' razors for him…?" she demanded.

"I overheard him on the phone with you: I wanted to talk to him… His door was open and I was about to knock and walk in, when I realized he was talking to _you_—I left to give him some privacy."

Olivia finally lowered her eyes, accepting his explanation with a quiet, "Okay."

Porter looked at ADIC Putnam with alarm—a question in his eyes.

"I know nothing about it, Dean… but you can bet I'll look into it." Her voice registered her concern. "And I agree with you…" She turned her attention to Olivia. "Detective Benson, you're the target of whoever is behind all this. And it's possible you are, too, Agent Stabler."

Olivia's attention was still on Dean. "Is that why you insisted on going under with me… instead of letting Elliot?"

He hesitated before he answered. "Yeah…" He raised his eyes to hers. "It's never a good idea to have anyone who's romantically involved go under together—you know that—and Dr. Huang _strongly_ supported it." He gave a sheepish grin. "Besides, I knew if I was with you, Stabler'd be all over it—and you'd have twice the coverage." He risked a glance at Elliot, and caught the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. He nodded in Frank's direction. "And I trusted Barrett… I knew he'd be suspicious of the intel—and you'd be in good hands."

Elliot cleared his throat to speak: "Then I guess you didn't install the cameras in the bedroom, either," he said. He gave Porter an apologetic grimace, indicating he believed the agent—albeit reluctantly. "We've got some new information that may have bearing on all this..." He looked to ADIC Putnam for permission to proceed. She nodded and he leaned forward, his arms resting on the table—his hands folded in front of him. "Liv and I worked a case back in two thousand-three involving the Lamerly family." He glanced at Olivia. "We discovered yesterday that Crestview was originally owned by the Lamerlys… I was notified just before this meeting that Candace Lamerly had a son who'd renounced all ties to them, and changed his name. We believe it's likely that John Lamb is actually Jackson Lamerly. Olivia's Captain and teammates at the 16th Precinct have taken this on as top priority and they'll report in as soon as they have any information."

* * *

Olivia rested her head against the back of the seat and watched the passing sights out her window—mostly other vehicles. The meeting had ended at four-thirty, and she and Porter were driving back from the city. They planned to stop at Crestview long enough to change for dinner at the Club. She could feel Porter's eyes on her, and hoped to god he was giving the road as much attention as he seemed to be giving her.

"Oli… uh, _Jennifer_…? Think we can talk…?" he asked tentatively.

She turned to look at him. "I don't wanna talk about _us_—not until this is over." She saw the disappointment on his face, and felt guilty… especially since it was obvious he'd been trying to protect her—not do her harm. She reached over and touched his arm. "We, _I… _need the distance between us right now to play this role. It _has_ to remain impersonal..."

He nodded, and glanced over at her. "Okay… I understand."

They rode in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Just before they reached Hempstead, Olivia turned toward him. She spoke softly, watching his profile. "I'm sorry, Dean. We thought…"

He turned his head briefly, a smirk at the corners of his mouth. "I know what you thought. Is this an apology, Benson?" He grinned, his arrogance clearly intact.

"Yeah… And, Dean—Thank you."

"Apology accepted. You think I can meet with you and Stabler when he comes over tonight?"

Olivia's eyes opened wide as she stared at him, his words apparently having rendered her speechless.

"I mean, we still have things we need to talk about… I need to be brought up to speed in order to be of any real help, here…"

"Ah… Yeah… I… When did… How did you…?"

Porter chuckled, obviously amused at her inability to form coherent sentences.

"I told you—I was _counting_ on Stabler to overreact: I knew he'd be here protecting his territory—like a big ol' guard dog." He grinned over at her. "It's what I'd have done in the same circumstances. And I have a lot of faith in you—_and_ Frank."

Olivia finally recovered enough to speak. "Okay… I'll talk to him and set it up."

* * *

A figure lurked in the shadows, just yards from the approach to the Crestview driveway—exactly where he was expected to be. He observed the silver Rolls Royce that had pulled to a stop in front of the house. He watched as the driver opened the passenger side door, offering a hand to the beautiful woman stepping out of the car. He waited until they were safely inside before continuing his conversation. "I told you… I want direct contact to whoever's in charge." He paced while he talked into his cell, looking furtively around to be certain he was still alone.

"And I told you—that's not gonna happen… Nobody on your level has direct contact. You have to go through layers to reach the top, for Christ's sake. Are you gonna follow-through on the job or not?" The man belonging to the voice on the other end of the phone couldn't disguise his frustration.

"On one condition: I wanna handle the woman. This is personal for me—she _owes_ me. Besides—I don't want sloppy seconds, and I don't share. Either I get that guarantee, or I'll walk away in the middle of the job, and Kundak can figure out how to handle the two of them by himself. If he comes near her, I walk. I'll expect to hear from you by tomorrow at midnight."

"I'll pass the message on to my contact… It's out of my hands after that."

* * *

"Okay, Cap… Thanks. I'll fill them in on this—and Porter, too... I guess." Elliot ended the phone call with Cragen and slipped the phone back in his pocket. He'd barely taken three steps when it vibrated again. He stopped and reached into his pocket to retrieve it, answering quickly.

"Elliot?"

"Yeah, baby… What's up—everything okay?"

Olivia hurried to assure him that there was nothing wrong. "I talked with Porter… on the ride back to Crestview. He knows about you staying with me at night—he's known all along." She waited for him to respond, not quite sure what reaction to expect from her news: She didn't expect to hear Elliot chuckling into the phone.

"I'm not surprised. Based on what he told us, I imagine he was counting on it."

"That's what he said. Listen, I'm getting ready to head to the club for dinner, so I haven't got much time… Porter wants us to get together tonight—when you come to see me. He thinks there's a lot more we need to talk about and…"

"I agree. I just got off the phone with Cap, and I've gotta fill you all in on what they've found—about the Lamerlys. Let me talk to Frank, and we'll set a time and place. At least we won't have to work _around_ Porter anymore."

* * *

The place was a little-known dive half-way to the city that no one who'd been hanging at the Hempstead Country Club would ever frequent. And the time was nine-thirty—after Porter and Olivia finished their dinner at said country club. Frank and Elliot were already seated at a table with a couple of beers, heavy into conversation when they walked in.

Ever the gentleman, Porter took Olivia's coat and hung it up for her, then pulled out her chair when they reached the table. Instead of sitting, she looked beseechingly at Frank, who immediately stood and switched seats with her so she could settle in beside Elliot. She gave Porter an apologetic glance, as Elliot leaned over to claim her lips. Frank rolled his eyes. "You might as well get used to it Porter if you're gonna hang out with 'em—they can't help themselves." In spite of his words, his tone betrayed his good humor.

After Olivia's wine and Porter's beer arrived, the foursome was ready to tackle the subject they'd come to discuss, and Frank got the ball rolling. "Okay, Stabler… Tell us what you got today from Cragen."

Elliot reached into his pocket and brought out a folded sheet of notes he'd taken. He consulted the notes before clearing his throat to speak. "John Lamb was born Jackson Lamerly, in nineteen-sixty: son of William and Candace Lamerly; brother to Douglas; and uncle to Drew. For whatever reason, he was estranged from his family before he turned twenty, shortly after his father died. He changed his name to John Lamb, and apparently spent some time in the Navy, after which he became involved in law-enforcement—eventually joining the FBI."

"How'd he end up with Crestview if his family disowned him?"

Olivia nodded. "I was just gonna ask the same thing, Frank."

"I didn't say his family disowned _him_… He apparently disowned _them_. But all the remaining family members died off in the past ten years, since Drew's incarceration for rape and murder—including Drew… He was beaten to death in the prison courtyard."

"Wow. What happened to the others?" Olivia asked.

Candace Lamerly died of a stroke shortly after Drew went to prison… She was having some medical problems during his trial, remember?"

"Yeah… I do."

"Drew's father died of a heart attack shortly after receiving the news of Drew's death."

"That must have been terrible for him… He actually seemed like a decent man," Olivia observed.

"Yeah, he did," Elliot agreed. "At any rate, Crestview was left to John. And although he doesn't live there—and barely acknowledges it—he's made certain it's well-maintained."

Porter summed it up. "This is all fine and good, but I don't see how any of it adds up to you two being his targets: What's the motivation? What could he possibly be holding against you? He's been involved in law-enforcement his whole adult life… I'm sure he understands the reason his nephew was arrested and prosecuted. And if he removed himself from his family, sounds like he had no use for the lifestyle they led, anyway."

"I gotta say—I agree with you Porter… I'm havin' a hell of a time makin' it fit, myself." Frank rubbed his hand down over his face and leaned back in his chair, taking a swig of beer.

Elliot looked at Olivia. "He doesn't even know you, Liv. Why would he be focusing on you?"

"But he does know you, El… Maybe he sees me as being the means to hurt you. But why would he want to…?" Olivia shook her head. "But this is all one hell of a coincidence. And I don't believe in coincidences."

Porter spoke again. "Okay, so what do we have that points to Lamb?"

Olivia reached in her purse and brought out the list they'd been working on. "This is what we had so far..." She read from the list, bringing Porter up-to-speed on the intel they'd gathered. "Add to that the information Cragen just gave us: Family members have all died since the arrest and incarceration of his nephew, and all the deaths are directly or indirectly related to his incarceration; and the fact that he isn't responding to Putnam's demands that he check in…" She jotted the new information down.

Porter looked around the table at the other three. "I've got to admit… There's a lot there that's suspicious… but there's still no believable motive." He sat for a moment worrying the label on his beer bottle. "What if _he _thinks you're targets, too? I mean, he obviously has concerns about _my_ motivation… Maybe he's watching me."

"But why wouldn't he talk to Connie, Porter? He's gotta know she's gettin' pissed." Frank leaned his arms on the table and focused on Olivia. "An' why in hell would he put cameras in her bedroom an' shower—only one reason a man does a thing like that!"

In spite of herself, Olivia shuddered, and Elliot reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Maybe he didn't put them there," she said, looking down at the table.

"You sayin' you think this could be legitimate… We might actually be dealin' with the real Country Club murderer?" Frank's tone belied his disbelief in the theory.

"No. No, I don't think so… I'm just saying, maybe it's someone else—someone who does have motive. God knows I've, _we've…" _she corrected, sliding her eyes to Elliot. "…pissed off enough perps over the years… Maybe Fin's right and we should be looking at some of them." She raked her fingers through her hair, leaning wearily against the back of her seat.

Elliot watched her with concern. "I think you have a point, Liv. Let's take that a little more seriously. Who did Fin say he was gonna look into?"

"Anne Gillette, Anton Petrov, and Delia Wilson…"

Porter turned his attention to Olivia. "We should start with the case that was most recent…"

"That would be the Delia Wilson case. It happened just a few months ago… and it was far-reaching."

I wasn't involved in that one, Liv," Elliot reminded her. "That means it would be just you..."

"I know."

Porter looked knowingly at Frank. "Let's get the information to Connie and set some gears in motion."

**TBC**

**Thanks for reading! I'll do my level best to post Chapter 12 on Wednesday morning... If not, it'll be up no later than Sunday.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you for continuing to read this story, and for the reviews. It's much appreciated.**

**Chapter 12**

They stood close together in the dark parking lot; their only source of light, a nearby streetlamp. Frank and Porter were giving them a few minutes of privacy before they headed back to Hempstead. Frustrated by the emotions that were threatening to overtake her, Olivia fought the tears; she hated feeling vulnerable. She tried to avoid his eyes, but Elliot gently took her chin in his hand and turned her face to his, as the first tear escaped.

"Hey, baby…" Alarmed, he pulled her into his arms. "What is it, Liv? Is it Porter? I swear, I'll…"

"No, Elliot. No… I just really wanna be with you tonight—without cameras, and people… and sneaking around." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I don't have a good feeling about this…"

Olivia Benson was tough: She was the strongest woman he knew, and one of the best detective's the NYPD had ever been blessed with—willing to carry her own load and then some. She'd been in more than her share of dangerous situations over the years, and the target of more than one psychopath. She didn't complain, and she wasn't faint of heart; she was brave, and gutsy. So when those words came from her mouth, he knew she was struggling. He pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms. She remained rigid, refusing to give in to the cold fear that was all but consuming her—desperately trying to gain some control.

"I'm sorry, El… I'm being ridiculous—I know we can't be together. I'm fine." She tried to pull away from him, but he held her tight.

"No. Liv… You're not being ridiculous—you have every reason to be afraid. I'm scared too, baby—I have been since this damn thing started. Jesus, Liv… I just wanna take you away from all this."

She slowly allowed herself to sink into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's just different now, El," she whispered, her voice still choked with tears. "I've never known what it was to be truly happy before… I've never had so much to live for—or so much to lose—and I'm terrified, Elliot."

He knew the feeling well—in regards to his children; they'd always been his main concern in these situations. Elliot felt his own control begin to slip as icy fingers of fear inched up his spine. This time it was different for him, too—it was stepped up a notch: Kathy never had the hold on his heart that Olivia did—and he understood her terror. "Baby, I'm gonna arrange for us to be together tonight," he whispered.

"Elliot… No—we can't. We can't jeopardize the operation. I know I slipped out to be with you for a few hours last night, but this—we can't. Before tonight we at least thought we had some idea what we were dealing with—but now everything's changed." She pulled out of his arms, and took a few steps away to distance herself, raking her fingers through her hair. "Who is doing this…? What the hell do they want?" She shivered and wrapped her coat tighter around herself. Elliot covered the distance between them, drawing her back into his arms.

"Liv…"

"I'm fine, Elliot… really. It's just all this waiting… It's making me crazy. We don't even know who we're looking for. I'm used to doing so much more… you know? I usually have a victim to center my attention on—I feel so goddamned useless." She resisted his arms, knowing it would be too easy to get lost in them. "It's so fucking frustrating: It's like being spun around while you're blind-folded; when you stop you don't know which direction you're pointed in…"

He gave a dry, mirthless laugh. "Yeah, that pretty much describes it." He understood her frustration and restlessness: She was a woman of action—never better than when she could focus her energy on protecting someone else—or getting justice for them. But when the focus was on her, she was like a fish out of water. He pressed his lips to her forehead, kissing her gently. "Are you gonna be okay, baby…? 'Cause I know we can work something out, Liv."

"No, El—I'm fine… I promise." He didn't miss the tremulous sigh she tried to stifle, but she was stubborn and he knew she couldn't be persuaded now that she'd made up her mind.

"I'll be over later with my trusty air mattress… We can make-out on the settee." He offered a hopeful grin and waggled his eyebrows, trying to lighten her mood.

She managed a sad smile. "Now that we trust Porter, maybe you don't need to spend the nights there, El… You'd be a lot more comfortable in a real bed. You could still come over and say goodnight to me." It wasn't that she didn't want him there—there was a great deal of comfort knowing he was just feet away from her… But it was pretty hard for him to get a decent night's sleep.

"I didn't say _I trusted_ Porter, Liv… Jesus, I watched a man hold a gun to your head, knowing I couldn't risk taking a shot for fear of hurting you—but it didn't stop _him…_ And if that's the kind of protection he offers, I'm not leaving you alone with him."

"Okay… I just…"

Their conversation was interrupted when Elliot realized Frank was motioning to him. "I'll go see what he wants and come right back… I still wanna say goodbye to you," he declared, heading toward Frank.

Olivia slowly trailed after him, not quite ready to say goodbye, but not wanting to hold the other two men up. She thought about how much more difficult this op could have been if it'd panned out the way it had been set up; she wouldn't have seen Elliot at all. As it was, she not only had had several opportunities to see him during the day, but she'd slept with him most nights. She realized how lucky she was and decided she needed to 'buck up' and stop being a baby. _When the hell had she turned into 'that' woman—the woman who couldn't survive without her man…?_ She couldn't decide if she was amused or horrified by the thought. She approached the three men in time to hear Frank address Elliot.

"Hey, Stabler… Porter and I wanna kick around a coupla ideas… Why don't you guys take the Rolls and Olivia can drop you off…"

Elliot didn't need to be persuaded. Porter exchanged keys with him, and the two of them headed to the other car, while he and Olivia climbed into the Rolls Royce. Elliot insisted on driving, much to her relief.

They took their time, stopping in a little convenience store for coffee and tea… Olivia requested chocolate, knowing he'd never find her favorite, but desperate enough to settle for anything that qualified. After they'd been on the road for a while, Elliot found a peaceful spot overlooking the water and pulled off the highway to park. "You're still pretty quiet, Liv… You sure you're okay." He reached over and took her hand.

"Yeah. It's just… I miss the kids, El. I worry about them… How did you do this all those years, Elliot?" She finally lost the battle with the tears she'd been holding back, and they escaped, tracking down her cheeks, as she frantically listed all the reasons she needed to be home. "…and it's almost Christmas," she sobbed. "There are so many things I promised to do with them, El… Eli's got the program at his pre-school… and there's shopping… and it's our first Christmas together… and…"

"Hey, hey, baby." Elliot pulled her into his arms, and this time he wasn't letting her go. He held her and let her cry, murmuring soothingly while he kissed her forehead. The tears subsided, but she shivered in his arms.

"I'm sorry, El… I'm such a mess." She looked up at him from under the fringe of her lashes, tears still glistening. "I probably should tell you I can chalk some of this up to PMS," she admitted morosely. "I guess that's why I'm so emotional… I'm sorry."

"Hey, you don't need to be sorry, baby." Elliot drew her lips to his and kissed her tenderly. "Besides," he chuckled. "I already knew that… but I sure wasn't gonna be the first to mention it."

"Okay, smartass… How'd you know?"

He smiled smugly and she punched him lightly on the arm. "If I tell you, are you gonna punch me again?"

"Probably," she admitted. "Depends on what you say."

He drew her closer and tilted her chin so he could look into her eyes. "Well… There's the whole chocolate thing…" She rolled her eyes but had no grounds to argue, so he continued. "And just a few days before you start, you…" He hesitated.

"I what, Elliot…?"

"Let's just say your, uh… libido—and sexual urges… change. For one thing you're insatiable… _more_ than usual," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he watched the expression on her face.

"Oh, really…? What else…?" she challenged.

"Well... You want me to take charge: You know—to 'take' you—be on top… And you want it slow and intense and romantic. You wanna be kissed more—you get all feminine and cuddly… You're sexy as hell." He brushed his thumb over the contours of her cheek before placing a lingering kiss on her lips.

When he removed his lips she snuggled into him. "Wow! You do know me, El," she said, her voice still a little tremulous. "I really am sorry I fell apart, Elliot…" She pulled out of his arms and sat back against the seat, raking her fingers through her hair. "I'm on an FBI undercover op, for god's sake!" She turned her head to look at him. "I guess it's true that people in a relationship shouldn't do this together. What the hell would I have done if we hadn't been able to see each other at all—the way it'd had been planned? I'd have been so miserable, Elliot."

He pulled her back into his arms. "Well, _I'm_ glad we're together. And you'd have done your job—just like you always do: This isn't the first time you've had PMS, baby… It hasn't interfered with your ability to fully function and be one hell of a detective for the past fifteen years, has it?"

"No… No, it hasn't," she acknowledged.

"And you didn't fall apart, Liv. You expressed some beautiful sentiments: When you said you'd never been this happy—and had so much to lose… Do you know how good hearing that made me feel? And the things you said about the kids, Liv… God I love you so much. You make me so happy, Olivia Benson." He held her for a few more moments, rubbing her back and placing kisses in her hair, before gently pushing her away to look into her eyes. "And, baby… It's okay to be scared. I'm scared, too… It's not like we're being paranoid and _imagining _that someone has their sights on you, Liv… This is real. Fear will keep us more diligent."

* * *

**Thursday, December 6****th**

The shadows deepened as the man walked further into the trees and bushes around the parameter of the Crestview property, his ever-present cell phone held close to his ear. "I said I'd take it," he spat into the phone. "But I won't tolerate Kundak's interference: He takes care of Stabler and I take care of Benson. If he gets in my business with her, I'll walk. That's the only avenue I have to keep him under control, so you better make him understand."

"I told you… It's being taken care of—he knows he not only loses his cut, he'll be lucky if someone doesn't arrange an accident for him." The man hesitated before uttering his next words. "You might wanna ask yourself how much more attitude the boss is gonna tolerate from you, truth be told. Just a friendly warning..."

"Don't waste your time," he scoffed.

"Whatever… It's your neck. Now I've got some information for you: This op is all fucked up… Stabler was supposed to go under with her as Jason Randolph, but that ass Porter did instead. So he'll be at the house with her. Stabler's been coming over around midnight every night—and leaving around five the next morning… before daylight."

"That'll work. Who else is on the grounds…? We'll need to have a game plan for keeping Barrett and a few others out of the way."

"You'll have all the information you need when the time comes. This _has_ to go down as the work of the 'Country Club' murderer—with a little twist."

* * *

"What do we know 'bout the rest of th' agents Lamb hired…? …the ones patrollin' the perimeters of Crestview an' the club?"

"I can have a check done on that. Why…? What're you thinking, Frank?"

"I don't know what the hell I'm thinking, Connie, my minds goin' in so many directions. I wish to god we could locate Lamb… Rule him out one way or th'other. But if he handpicked 'em all, I jus' think we should look into it."

"I agree… Consider it done. What else."

"We got Benson's unit lookin' into some recent activity she was involved in… She played a pretty big role in bringin' down Delia Wilson—that pimp and drug lord, masquerading as a soccer mom and Sunday school teacher—a few months back; took out a slew of gover'ment officials when she tumbled. Threats were… 'nsinuated. Wouldn't hurt to have th' Bureau do some checkin' into that, too… We got a few more resources than the 16th Precinct."

"I remember hearing about it… Okay."

"An' if nothin' shows up on that—there're a few others we should look into…"

* * *

Olivia finished loading the dishwasher in the fancy kitchen she and Porter barely used. Porter had prepared dinner and she was cleaning up before they left for their appointment in the city. They had plans to connect with Elliot and Frank at the precinct, and the four of them would meet with Cragen—and anyone else from the team who was available. Amaro had been pulled in, too, since both he and Fin had contacts from their previous NYPD stints—Nick, in Warrants and Narcotics, and Fin, as a former undercover narcotics detective… It gave them the street presence they needed to go some of places the rest of them could never go. Tonight their focus would be different.

Since last evening Olivia had concentrated on pulling herself together and getting her head back in the game. She'd needed to depersonalize it in order to do some critical thinking. Elliot was right: She'd certainly had PMS many times in the past fifteen years, and had still done an exemplary job as an SVU Detective. But her life circumstances were different now, and god help her—she was getting older. As much as she didn't want to go there, she wondered if she might be feeling the effects of perimenopause; she'd certainly been more emotional in the past year.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Porter ambled into the kitchen. "Hey, you about ready…?" he asked. Now that they were working _with_ him and not _around_ him, it was much easier to maneuver—although it wasn't easier for her to spend time with him. In some ways it was more difficult: When she'd been angry with him and considered him the enemy she hadn't really needed to engage… It was impersonal. Now there was the expectation of conversation and comradery. And she found it much more awkward when they needed to be physical; especially when he kissed her. She sensed he still had an attraction to her, and while he clearly understood that her relationship with Elliot was solid and all-encompassing—and he was back to being the 'perfect gentleman' with her… it was there. It wasn't lost on her how hard this was for him, too.

"Yeah, I'm ready… Let's go."

* * *

Chairs had been commandeered from the empty desks in the squad room, and everyone sat around the bullpen, focusing on the information they'd been adding to the incident board. Amanda had taken on the task of writing it up as it was being presented. Half-empty coffee cups and opened bottles of water and cans of soda were scattered around on whatever surfaces were available. The topic was the Delia Wilson case, and currently Nick had the floor.

"I decided to check out some of the losers who'd been hanging out with Cassidy and Bart Ganzel… before everything went down." He made eye contact with Olivia, trying to gauge any defensiveness on her part at his mention of Cassidy. "I talked with some of the girls, too." He switched his attention from Olivia to John Munch. "Seems Cassidy was around recently—asking a buncha questions..."

John returned his stare. "I need more information than that, my man, if you hope to get any feedback from me: Like—the nature of the questions? Was he inquiring after their health, or hoping to get lucky?"

Nick shot a self-depracating grin in Munch's direction. "Point taken, John... He was asking if any of Ganzel's girls knew anything about Delia's operation since she'd been thrown in prison. Like… Were they still in the 'escort' business…? Had anyone taken it over in Delia's absence…? Had any of Ganzel's girls defected to the enemy…? Ganzel's operation's pretty much at a standstill and the girls are looking for work…"

"And what did they tell him…?"

"Seems business is good. Quite a few of Bart's girls have hired on with them. Apparently, there're just as many girls and no lack of drugs… Having Wilson in prison is hardly a blip in the operation of the 'business of pleasure.' The question here is whether she's operating it from her prison cell, or are her minions on the outside just filling in while she's indisposed?"

Cragen shifted in his chair. "Have you talked with Cassidy, Nick?"

"No—and not for lack of trying… He's disappeared."

Olivia gave a sigh of frustration. "What in hell is he thinking…? He's hardly had a chance to heal." She knew first hand how grievously Brian Cassidy had been injured. Because she'd been there, she'd felt some responsibility for his injury… And that, coupled with the guilt she'd harbored for the past twelve years for her shoddy treatment of him after their one-night stand, had caused her to offer support that was—possibly—above and beyond what was warranted. It had become a bitter bone of contention between her and Elliot. She glanced at him now, to see his reaction to her outburst.

Elliot's face remained impassive. He knew Olivia was watching him, and she had enough on her mind without worrying about him acting like an ass over a man he knew she only cared about as a friend.

"So what're you thinkin' this all means, Amaro? You got any theories that tie this to Benson and Stabler?" Frank gestured in their direction to emphasize his point.

"Not really, Frank. But it does prove it hasn't slowed her down any… And if she can operate her business from prison, she could probably set up an elaborate hit; God knows how many foot soldiers she's got at her disposal. And she's gotta have some pretty strong feelings about Liv."

Porter stood up, taking a moment to stretch before addressing the group. "Frank arranged with ADIC Putnam to have all the agents on this case checked out—since they were all appointed by John Lamb. We can check to see if Delia Wilson has any of her people hanging around Hempstead, at the same time… We've got some resources in the local police department there."

"Great… That's a start." Nick glanced at Olivia, quickly lowering his eyes. "There's more…" He cleared his throat and looked nervously at his Captain. "Word in the street has it that Cassidy is pissed at Benson—looking for revenge…" He risked a quick look from Olivia to Elliot.

Elliot jumped to his feet and advanced on Nick. "Where the hell did you hear that…?" he demanded.

Nick held up his hands, a startled expression on his face. "Whoa… I'm just the messenger here, man."

"Elliot…" Olivia warned, her tone low, but unmistakable.

"Geez, Nick… I'm sorry. Look, I wasn't blaming you—I just want to know where you got the information." He walked behind Olivia's chair and leaned down to whisper a quick apology, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

"From a couple of Ganzel's girls... Here's the funny thing: He didn't say anything about Olivia until _after_ he'd been to see the girl's who'd signed on with Delia. When he came back he was making a big deal out of it, saying how he was gonna 'teach her a lesson—show the bitch.' "

Olivia sat quietly, absorbing the information Nick was sharing, not quite believing what she was hearing… She and Brian had parted on good terms, their friendship stronger than ever, and this didn't make sense—it just didn't ring true. She chose to keep it to herself. "Where's Fin," she asked instead.

Cragen looked uncomfortable, but figured if he couldn't trust this group, he might as well hang it up. "He's doing a little undercover work himself." He looked meaningfully at Olivia, giving her the shadow of a smile.

"He's looking for Cassidy," Olivia stated, not needing to have Cragen verify it.

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading! Chapter 13 will be posted no later than next Saturday… If possible by Wednesday.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello Everyone! Thank you for the reviews... and a special thanks to the 'guest' who let me know Chapter 5 had suddenly become a repeat of Chapter 1 (I was making a correction and uploaded the wrong chapter!) - It has been corrected.**

**Chapter 13**

**Friday, December 7th**

Olivia opened her eyes realizing it was later than she'd thought. Elliot was gone—not a trace that he'd slept mere feet from her left in evidence—the deflated air mattress and bedroll no doubt stashed neatly in the bottom drawer of the bureau that held some of Porter's clothes. She'd finally fallen asleep just before dawn, having tossed and turned most of the night, her mind refusing to shut down as she played different scenarios in her head—hoping to land on one that made sense.

One thing had become abundantly clear to her over the past two days: Not only was she in danger, but Elliot was, too. Having worked through the fear that had temporarily immobilized her, she was infused with a new resolve; the man she loved was in harm's way and she'd be damned if she was going to stand idly by while he, the FBI, and the rest of her squad were trying to protect _her_ from a source they couldn't yet identify… She had a man who loved her… and a family who wanted to celebrate Christmas with her and _no one_ was going to stop that from happening!

She climbed out of bed and grabbed clean undergarments from the bureau drawer before heading to the shower. Protecting her modesty as much as possible, she quickly showered and shampooed, and wrapped herself in a big towel. She'd found that by dressing in the large closet, with the door partially closed, she could avoid the camera. She chose jeans and a sweater, and hurriedly pulled them on. She adopted a more relaxed pace to complete the rest of her grooming routine—styling her hair and putting on her make-up.

Making her way to the kitchen, she found Porter at his usual station perusing the local paper. The coffee pot huffed and chugged its way through the final stages of brewing, the rich aroma reaching her and immediately tweaking her caffeine addiction. She grabbed a mug as she said good morning. "Can I pour you a cup?" she offered, before she sat down.

Porter didn't look like he'd slept much himself. "Yeah… Thanks," he muttered, giving a bleary-eyed smile as she set the cup of bracing elixir before him.

"What's on the agenda this morning?"

"Seems they've been working around the clock… Putnam's called a meeting at her office at eight-thirty—I got the feeling they're onto something. Stabler and Barrett will meet us there."

* * *

Porter watched with envy as Olivia's face lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree when Elliot entered the room. He quickly made his way to her side, greeting her warmly. He had to give them credit… They kept it professional, addressing each other as colleagues—and nothing more.

Olivia noted they were meeting in Conference Room B instead of Putnam's office, apparently due to the number of people in attendance. In addition to herself, Elliot, Porter, Frank and Putnam, they were joined by Don Cragen and John Munch... and Agent Gavin McBride.

They milled around long enough to help themselves to the coffee and pastries that had been provided… then seated themselves on either side of the table. ADIC Putnam, looking even less rested than she had the day before, quickly called the meeting to order. "I'm pleased to report we've made some progress in the past eighteen hours… With the help of the team from the 16th Precinct we've hopefully found something that gives us a promising lead. "Captain Cragen, please bring us up to speed."

Donald Cragen raised his eyes to Putnam, after a glance at the notes in front of him. "Thank you, Assistant Director." He turned his attention to the others seated around the table. "After our meeting, I received faxes from the Bureau…" He looked pointedly at Frank. "...images of several of the agents who're working this op—with the instructions to get them out on the street."

"Nick already get them out there, did he…?" Frank asked, the raise of an eyebrow and the grin on his face indicating he was clearly impressed.

"Nick went back out last night. Got some copies to Fin, too..." His gaze came to rest on Olivia. "Later, Fin contacted me. Seems one of the girls he'd been working recognized one of them… Claimed she had some information—if the price was right." Cragen cleared his throat. "Fin managed to, uh… _secure_ a photograph, and Nick brought it to us." He turned to Munch. "Why don't you take it from here, John?"

Munch leaned back in his chair, his long arms still resting on the table, studying the images he held in his hand. He finally lifted his head acknowledging the group around him, before he spoke. "Nick brought the photograph to me because it wasn't a recent one and we wanted to compare it to the images we'd received from Frank." He lowered his glasses to peer across the table at him.

"Jesus, Munch… You gonna tell us something' worth haulin' ass into the city for, or just keep us in suspense all mornin' long?" Frank groused good-naturedly.

The sergeant gave him a smirk and continued. "I have an 'age progression' software program on my computer, so I was able to advance the photo..." He laid one of the photos on the table turning it so everyone could see. The image was of a young girl, probably twelve or thirteen. Before Frank could complain again, Munch displayed the advanced photo—an image of a young woman in her mid-twenties to thirty years of age.

Olivia gasped. "That looks like Agent Abramsen!" She looked around at the others to see if anyone else saw the resemblance.

Munch grinned, obviously pleased at Olivia's reaction. "That's what I said." He then placed a third image beside the others—the one of Special Agent Jessica Abramsen that had been forwarded to him by Frank. The likeness was unmistakable.

Gavin McBride leaned forward for a closer look. "That's her alright…" He looked over at Frank. "I haven't seen her in the last couple of days."

Cragen cleared his throat again, drawing everyone's attention. "There's more. The information Fin's source gave us identifies this young woman as Delia Wilson's younger sister."

The group around the table sat in stunned silence for just a moment before Elliot spoke up. "Do we have anymore information on her? It doesn't mean she's guilty of anything just because they're related."

"It's a hell of a coincidence, Elliot." Olivia sat back, her arms crossed, her face an unreadable mask.

ADIC Putnam picked up the conversation. "We've been working non-stop on this since Captain Cragen contacted us. We believe her name is Tonia Crandall… Crandall is Delia Wilson's maiden name, and she has a younger sister. Review of her paperwork looks authentic… Someone on the inside created her FBI profile—but none of our people remembers her."

Cragen spoke again. "According to Fin's source, she's been helping Delia run the business for the last few years—said Delia's been breaking her in."

Olivia looked at her Captain. "So that's it…?" she said softly, her eyes searching his. "She's the one behind this, Don—Delia Wilson?"

Cragen smiled sadly, his words gentle as he addressed her. "Yeah… I'm afraid so, Liv."

Elliot watched the exchange between the two—the woman he loved, and the man who loved her like a daughter—touched by the tenderness he observed between them… and grateful for the role they played in each other's lives.

"We expect Crandall's the go-between… Passing info and taking orders from Delia—when she visits her in prison." Putnam looked around the room, her gaze finally resting on Frank. "But there has to be someone else who's set this in motion within the Bureau… We suspect it's probably Lamb."

Frank ran a meaty hand down over his jaw. "It sure does point in that direction, don't it…?"

Putnam continued. "We're still looking to identify the other agents. Gavin, you've spent the most time with them… If you and Frank and Elliot will take a few minutes with me after the meeting, maybe we can stumble across something helpful."

* * *

Olivia stood quietly just inside Elliot's office waiting for him to finalize plans. After he and Frank wrapped things up with McBride and Putnam, they'd connect with her and Porter at Elliot's office in Hempstead. Elliot aka 'Zach Thomas' was supposed to meet with Miranda Lewis for her third training session, and he was only too happy to call and cancel the appointment, hoping she wouldn't insist on rescheduling. While he waited for her to answer her phone, he turned to Frank, not realizing Olivia was standing close by. "I'm not so sure I'm gonna get away with my virtue intact, the next time that woman gets her hands on me." Frank chuckled until he saw Olivia, and decided he'd better make himself scarce. He just caught Olivia's wink as he stepped out of the way to watch from a distance.

"What the hell is she doing with her hands on you…?" she demanded, advancing on Elliot until she'd backed him against the wall, the surprise on his face priceless.

"Liv! Uh… Oh, hello, Miranda…?" Elliot nervously kept his eye on Olivia as he maneuvered his way through the conversation on his cell phone. "Okay, sure, sure… We can reschedule for tomorrow at two o'clock." He grimaced, rolling his eyes. "Yeah…uh, nice to hear your voice, too. See you tomorrow."

"_Nice_ to hear your _voice_…! Really, Elliot…? Oh—I mean, _Zach_." You wanna explain to me why she has her hands on you…? I've had body training sessions before, and there wasn't a single one that required me to man-handle my trainer."

"Liv, let me expl..."

"I'm not sure you can possibly explain what her training session has to do with _your_ virtue… so I'll just see you back at your office."

"Olivia...!" His voice was panicked as he grabbed her arm when she started to stalk off. He pulled her to him so quickly she wasn't able to conceal the grin she'd been trying to hide.

"What the hell, Olivia…? You're teasing aren't you, you little minx." He pushed her into the wall and planted a kiss on her lips, before Frank interrupted.

"Okay, you two… Times a wastin' and Porter said he'd meet you at the car…" He grinned widely at Olivia as she pushed Elliot away and disentangled herself from his arms.

Elliot reluctantly released her. "Hey, beautiful… How 'bout you and Porter grab us some lunch and we'll eat in my office."

"Will do… Want me to call Miranda—see if she can join us?" she teased.

"Don't even pretend," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "You're not letting this go any time soon, huh?"

"Not very damn likely," she sassed, grinning at Frank as she hurried off to catch her ride.

* * *

"It's _gotta_ be Lamb! He's the one's _gotta_ be workin' with Delia. He has all the inside information… He can manipulate the whole set-up to go down exactly the way it needs to in order to look like one of the CC Murders. But what the hell's their connection?" Frank shook his head, as they wrestled with the information they'd gathered, trying to make sense of the puzzle.

"I can't see there being any tie-in to his nephew's case… But who knows? Hell of a lot of coincidences though." Olivia had finished clearing the remains of their lunch, and she handed some bottles of water to the three men at the table, before taking her seat again.

Porter had been quiet, his look thoughtful. "Okay, let's just look at what's actually in our faces. There was a real effort to get you and Olivia to go under together as the Randolph's… Where did that come from?"

"Putnam first suggested Olivia…"

"No, El. Dana Lewis did… She suggested me to Connie, remember?"

"You're right… And Connie recommended you to Lamb…"

"And Lamb went to Tucker for more information about us… but didn't let on he knew you." Elliot and Olivia were finishing each others sentences in true Benson and Stabler mode.

"And when I was brought in, I was told it was a done deal… 'Non-negotiable' was the term Putnam used." Porter tapped his pencil on the table, as he mulled it over. "It all seems pretty random… and I guess it could be a coincidence that Connie went to Dana, and they just _happened_ to recommend the very person Delia wanted in this role." He glanced at Olivia. "They probably would still have gone after you, regardless of who she'd suggested. Lamb _had_ to know he could manipulate Tucker… All he had to do was feed him the right information. You were really the only logical choice from the pool they were fishing in."

"A hell of a lot of planning has gone into this… This _had_ to have been in the works for a while, Liv. I wouldn't be surprised if she was working on this before she was locked up. Elliot watched her face as she processed his words. "I mean, she's gotta hate you, Olivia… You were the driving force behind her downfall." Olivia's eyes met his, but she remained silent.

"Okay… What about the cameras in the bedroom? Lamb had the expertise _and_ the opportunity to install 'em. An' he sure as hell thought _you_ were gonna be there with Olivia, Stabler. R'member…? He came into the security office th'night of the party, mad as a wet hen when he found out you weren't playin' Jason Randolph." Frank pointed at Elliot for emphasis. "That bastard thought he'd be watchin' you an' Olivia—keepin' track of you… What better place than the bedroom…? The one room you'd both be sure to be in together.

"He sure didn't expect me to be there instead." Porter grinned ruefully at Olivia, and Elliot forced himself to not react—it was a valid point.

"Why were _you_ pulled in, Dean? You were specifically targeted to receive the phone call that put the whole thing in motion… That wasn't a coincidence."

"You're right, Olivia… it wasn't. And Connie told me it was Lamb who insisted I be the handler, even though I'm homeland security."

"Hey… Didn't Tucker tell you that Porter was pissed at me and Liv, Frank?"

"Yeah. He did… He said Porter claimed you came between him an' Olivia—an' said Olivia was a tease."

"What the fuck." Porter stood suddenly and left the table, pacing to the other side of the small office. He ran out of space and leaned against the door frame—attempting to calm down before he spoke. "Olivia, _none_ of that is true: I've _never _expressed any of that to anyone. Especially not that jackass..." He looked at Elliot. "You've been a huge pain in my ass, Stabler—where she's concerned." He tipped his head in Olivia's direction. "But I saw how things were between the two of you. I knew there wasn't another man around who stood a chance with her." He turned his attention to Olivia, and continued in a softer tone. "I didn't like it… But that's the way it was."

Olivia held his gaze for a moment, not knowing what to say—grateful when she heard Frank clear his throat. "Good to clear the air… But we got more pressin' matters, folks." He looked at Porter. "Looks to me like you're s'posed to be the fall guy, here." He addressed Elliot and Olivia. "I'd bet my pension the plan is to make Porter look like the perpetrator—a 'love triangle' thing—spurned lover… S'posed to appear like _Porter's_ settin' it up to mimic the CC murders. And I'd say he's a target, too—for 'death by FBI' I'd bet…"

"Lamb! Jesus Christ." Elliot's face had lost its color. "We need to find him. He's _got _to be close by… Is it possible there're any hidden rooms in this place? Could we get a blue print of the house and a layout of the grounds?"

Porter spoke up. "I'll take care of it. We done here?"

* * *

After Porter left, Frank decided to run some errands of his own, purposely giving Elliot and Olivia some time together. Elliot closed his office door and wrapped his arms around her. He held her close, leaning in to kiss her lips. When he released them, he spoke—his voice husky with emotion—his eyes dark and demanding.

"I want you to pull out of this op, Olivia…"

The intensity of his gaze was too much and she lowered her eyes, leaning her head against his chest. "You know that's not gonna happen, El," she said softly. "I'd be more likely to cut off my right arm than to walk away now—and leave you to go into battle without me." She raised her eyes to his. "And you know that, Stabler."

"Had to try, Benson," he whispered, holding her close.

* * *

"What can you tell me…? When's this thing going down?" His agitation was palpable, as he paced the small strip between the shadowy trees that acted as his cover, his cell phone held to his ear. He glanced furtively around to be sure he was alone.

"Haven't you heard…? Patience is a virtue." The voice on the other end of the phone was gratingly condescending. "We're still lining things up… Timing is essential—and this has to go down picture perfect." His tone had turned cold and mocking. "But don't worry—Olivia Benson's not going anywhere."

The man in the shadows wanted to reach through the phone and slowly strangle the life out of the smug bastard on the other end. "You must have some kind of a time line on this… Aren't you concerned they'll start putting it all together?"

"Oh, they're doing a good job of it—but it won't matter: It'll be done long before they wrap their heads around all the pieces." "Porter'll be framed—and then he'll be dead… So he won't be able to defend himself. The evidence will be airtight."

"I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you… Things can go wrong—and they're smart as hell…"

"You just worry about your end of things," he snarled, clearly losing his patience. "Benson's a tasty morsel… but she won't go down easy." He chuckled, the sound dark and sinister. "You'll have your hands full… Just make goddamn sure you do her right. The crime scene has to be an exact replica of the previous thirteen. Have you checked out the restraints yet…? They can be a challenge, especially when you've got an armful of struggling woman." He chuckled again, but his voice turned to ice with his next words. "Remember—there're cameras in that room… You won't be able to hide a sloppy job."

The threat wasn't lost on him. "Don't waste your time worrying about me… I've already planned my strategy. It's amazing how effective a sleeper hold can be. Just make damn sure Kundak toes the line. He's already pissing and moaning 'cause he doesn't get a crack at her. I don't trust him to keep his hands off her… If he leaves DNA at the scene he's screwed—his is in the system."

"Like I said—you just worry about yourself… And keep you're damn phone charged."

* * *

"Connie. What's up..? You got some news for us…?

"I have, Frank. Now that we've got a direction to go in, we're making good progress. We've found bogus paperwork on two more operatives… They've been patrolling the grounds at both the club and Crestview… No problem staying off the radar—they're always right where they're supposed to be. Unfortunately, we haven't got anymore information on them, yet… And like Crandall, they've both disappeared."

"Jesus! This means everythin' we thought we'd kept under wraps—the surveillance me an' Stabler've been doin' and Stabler spendin' his nights with Olivia… They could be watchin' all of it… Every move we make.

"Potentially… yes. And Frank—we're thinking whatever's going down will probably happen within the next 48 hours."

**TBC**

**Thanks for reading! Will try to upload Chapter 14 on Sunday.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey everyone. In spite of my best intentions, I know it's been 8 days since I uploaded a new chapter... So sorry! Here it is. Hope to wrap this up in 2 - 3 more chapters. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 14**

"Are we jus' gonna stand around an' wait for this asshole to strike?" Jesus! We know what that sick fuck's plannin' to do t'her. We gotta come up with a game plan here—and soon." Frank's usual cool demeanor was long gone, and Elliot found himself with their roles reversed.

"Frank, calm down! What exactly did Putnam say?"

"She said they found two more men on Delia's payroll posin' as agents… And whatever's goin' down's likely to happen in the next forty-eight hours."

"Fuck!" Elliot lowered himself into the chair across from him.

The older agent slumped back in his seat, drawing his hands down over his face. For the first time since Elliot had known him, Frank Barrett was showing every day of his sixty-something years. He looked over at Elliot, a rueful grin briefly lighting his face. "Jesus, I'm sorry… Guess I'm not used to carin' so much—usually it's pretty damned impersonal. But goddamn, Stabler… That woman a yours—she's somethin' else. She has a way a gettin' under a man's skin." He paused for a moment then nodded at Elliot. "An' you're no slouch either." Frank turned away, uncomfortable at his rare display of emotion. "I don't have a lotta people in my life to give a damn about, an' it jus' so happens I give a damn 'bout the two a you."

Elliot sat for a moment contemplating the man before him who'd just revealed a piece of his soul, and realized he'd become quite fond of him over the course of the few months he'd been with the FBI—and especially over the past week. "Then whaddaya say we figure out how to keep her safe, Frank." The two men made eye contact as a partnership shifted and a friendship was forged.

* * *

**Saturday, December 8th**

Elliot had folded up his sorry excuse for a bed and stashed it away, and now he sat watching Olivia—the woman he loved with every fiber of his being—as she finally slumbered peacefully. His mind replayed the conversation he'd had with Frank, and raw terror clutched at his heart, momentarily paralyzing him. He couldn't allow it to take hold: He knew if ever he needed a clear head, it was now. He hated to wake her—it'd only been a few short hours since she'd fallen into a deep sleep… The rest of the night he'd heard her tossing and turning fitfully. He called softly to her. "Hey baby, wake up…"

"Mmmm…" Olivia groaned and rolled over on to her stomach, hoping to hold onto the last vestiges of the sleep that had eluded her until the early morning hours.

"Liv… Wake up!"

She opened her eyes, and pushed herself up with one arm, before coming fully conscious and realizing it was Elliot who'd wakened her. "El...?" She rubbed sleepily at her eyes and sank back down into her pillow. "What d'you want…? Are you leaving? What time is it…?"

"I want you to come over here so we can talk, baby. Come on, sleepy head, wake up."

Olivia turned over and pushed the covers aside, raising herself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and dropping her feet to the floor. "I gotta pee first, El… Gimme a minute." She groggily made her way to the bathroom.

Elliot leaned back into the comfy cushions on the settee, appreciating the feel of something softer than his sleeping accommodations. If it wasn't so damn short, he'd be camping out on it. He listened while Olivia flushed, and then heard running water… He grinned to himself, knowing she wouldn't be leaving the bathroom until she'd washed her face and brushed her teeth, so he might as well cool his jets.

In spite of her ministrations, she couldn't wash the fatigue from her pretty face and her auburn waves were hopelessly tangled… It was beyond him how she always looked sexy as hell, no matter what state she was in. "D'you know it's only five o'clock, Elliot?" She lowered herself to the settee.

"Yeah… I'm well-aware of that fact," he snorted. "Believe me… it doesn't seem so early when you're sleeping on an air mattress."

She smiled as she settled in beside him, resting her head on his chest. "I'll trade your air mattress for my cameras. You can try to out-maneuver roving eyes while you're showering or trying to sleep… Do you have any idea how hot it gets when you sleep with your head under your covers?"

"So that's what's up with your hair," he smirked.

She half-heartedly smacked at his shoulder. "Okay, Agent Smart-ass… What is it you want? Is this a booty call?" she asked hopefully, as she snuggled into his arms—reveling in the feel of him.

"I wish it were… but unfortunately, Frank got some more information from Putnam late last night and we need to get together this morning. Frank's calling Porter, and we're gonna meet for breakfast a few miles out of town. Just wanted to give you a chance to get up and get going before Porter came looking for you."

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh… Thanks." She looked disappointed and he leaned down to capture her lips. "I'm taking you away for a few days when this is over," he growled, as he plundered her mouth. "…and I'm not lettin' you out of bed for forty-eight hours."

"Really…? You think that'll be enough?" she teased. "I have a better idea… Let's just stay home and lock the doors and turn off our phones. I don't know if I ever wanna leave home again after this."

* * *

An hour and a half later, the four of them were seated at a booth in a tiny, out-of-the-way dive, waiting for their second pot of coffee after polishing off a surprisingly good breakfast of eggs, bacon and pancakes. Frank looked no more rested than when Elliot had last seen him, but he seemed to have recovered his fighting spirit, and had kept the rhetoric lively this morning. He'd already briefed them on Putnam's latest information about the agents on Delia's payroll, and the possible forty-eight hour timeline. Now they were pouring over the Crestview blueprints Porter had managed to secure, hoping to find evidence of a hidden room or bunker.

"There's nothing here to indicate any area of the basement we haven't already checked out… And no secret rooms anywhere." Elliot exchanged looks with Frank. "Is there some way to check it out electronically, Frank?"

"I 'spect there oughta be," he speculated. "Let's see if we can get Morales over there later today."

"Wouldn't he already have detected something like that when he was there before…?" Olivia asked Frank, glancing sheepishly at Porter, knowing he was aware of their earlier suspicions that he'd planted the cameras in the Master Suite.

"Oh, you mean when he was there checking out the cameras in the bedroom?" Porter gave her a teasing grin. "I expect he probably did a quick scan of the area, but no one was thinking hidden rooms or bunkers in the cellar at that point, so it's worth checking in with him."

Frank grabbed his cell phone and quickly exited the table to make the call. After a brief conversation he made his way back, still talking into his phone. "Good! 'Spect to see you 'round ten o'clock, Morales…" He slid into the booth beside Porter.

"Sounds like good news, Frank." Olivia smiled over at him.

"Yeah." He briefly returned her smile, but his tone was somber. "He did pick up signals from all th'equipment installed by the FBI… Jus' figured the ones connected to the Suite would be off-site somewhere… Hell, that's what we were all thinkin' so he didn't pursue it. Says there're more s'phisticated devices he can use to check the grounds… ones that can tell th'difference b'tween the two. Shoulda had that done in the first place… Sorry guys."

Olivia sensed Frank was struggling this morning, and reached over to touch his arm. "No apologies needed." She hesitated, looking him in the eye. "We're all doing the best we can in a really crappy situation…" She held his eyes and her voice grew soft. "… and you've been a rock, Frank."

For a moment, the man was uncharacteristically at a loss for words, but he quickly recovered. "Goddamn, Stabler! I swear you don't take care o' this woman, I'll take her off your hands," Frank teased, as he smiled into her eyes.

"That won't be necessary, Barrett. I've got it covered," he assured him, grinning at Olivia—his own eyes conveying his appreciation.

"Hmmrp… If the 'I love Livvy' fest is over, can we get back to business, here?" Porter demanded grumpily. But when she glared over at him, he was grinning, too.

* * *

"God, I'll be so glad when this is over and we can go home." Elliot held her close while he buried his face in her hair, and nuzzled into her neck. They'd managed to steal off together to a bedroom on the third floor for a few minutes of privacy while the house was being swept for signals that might locate the source of the cameras in the Master Suite, hopefully leading them to Lamb.

"Me too, El..." Her voice betrayed her level of stress—her tension palpable. She was deliberately holding herself away from him… Not allowing her body to relax in his arms.

"Hey baby, try to relax, Liv…" He gently massaged her shoulders as he tried to get her to look at him.

She refused to meet his eyes, but she spoke in a whisper. "Elliot… Delia Wilson is ruthless and cruel—and vindictive. She has connections everywhere. And if she's set her sights on me, you can bet she knows everything about you—and your family." Elliot felt her tremble and tried to hold her closer, but she pulled out of his arms, and stepped away. When she turned to look at him, her eyes were stricken, and her face contorted with fear. "Elliot, what if she goes after the kids…?"

He quickly covered the few feet separating them and pulled her back into his arms. "I thought of that Liv: The Bureau has ordered a protective detail on Kathy and Eli, and Maureen and Turner are gonna stay with them until this is over. The twins are both gonna stay with friends, and not go to classes for the next few days. And Kathleen won't be back from her exchange program until a few days before Christmas… They're all safe, baby… They're safe."

Tears of fear and anger, mixed with tears of relief, and Olivia tried to push him away... When he wouldn't let her go she pummeled his chest in frustration, choking on the sobs she couldn't control. "Don't you think I should've known that…? Didn't you think I'd be worried, too? Why didn't you tell me Elliot?"

"Baby, I was getting ready to… You beat me to it. I took care of it just before heading over here. I didn't even think about it until after we left the diner this morning. Liv, I wouldn't keep that from you, baby. You're part of this family, Olivia; those kids adore you. And you're my partner—my life mate. And you _know_ if I had my way I'd make you _more than that_, Olivia," he reminded her gently.

"I know," she whispered, finally relaxing into him, and allowing him to hold her. "I'm sorry, El… I just got so scared thinking about it." He tipped her face to his and tenderly kissed her lips. She looked up at him, the earnestness in her eyes breaking his heart, but her words melted him to his core. "I love them, Elliot." Her voice was low and still raspy with tears. "I know they're not my children… But they're yours—and I couldn't love you as much as I do, and not love them, too: They're an extension of you. And if something happens to them because of me…"

"Shhh, shh, Liv… That's not gonna happen, baby."

* * *

Once again, the weary foursome found themselves in ADIC Putnam's office. They sat around a small oval table, a carafe of coffee sitting in the center. The tempting aroma wafted from the spout as the assistant director picked it up and poured five cups. She passed them around, offering sugar and cream. Olivia felt guilty as she accepted it, knowing tea or water would be better choices… She'd found herself opting for coffee more in this past week than she had in the last several years—feeling the need for the quick brace from the caffeine. Putnam settled back in her chair as everyone sipped the rich brew, savoring a peaceful moment before diving into the business that'd brought them together.

Frank, never one to beat around the bush, cleared his throat before plowing in. "Olivia, Connie and me've been talkin' and I'm jus' gonna lay this on th'table…" He glanced at Elliot before continuing. "We think you should pull outta this op… It's too damn dangerous, and we don't have a good handle on how th'hell it's gonna go down…"

Olivia started to protest, but Frank held up his hand. "All we know for sure is you're the target, and the intention is to make this look like a country club murder." He hesitated for a moment, looking down at the table. When he raised his eyes to hers she saw a fleeting glimpse of desperation… When he spoke again his voice was soft… almost cajoling. "You know what that bastard intends to do to you, pretty lady… You saw those crime scenes, Olivia. You never signed on for this… This ain't right."

Olivia was touched deeply by his obvious concern for her, but this was her battle and there wasn't a force powerful enough to pull her away from it now. "Frank, I'm not just the target… I'm the whole reason this is happening. Because of me, Elliot and Dean are at risk, too—and god knows who else. And even if I pull out, I'm still gonna be the target. I wanna get this done… and done now. I'm not pulling out, Frank; so you and Stabler and Porter better help me figure out how we're gonna do this… because it's happening."

"Okay." Frank sent an 'I told you so' look in Putnam's direction. "I told you that's what she'd say, Connie… Th'woman's got more grit than sense." He shook his head, but risked a look in Olivia's direction, giving her a wink and a smile that warmed her heart. "Jus' had to be sure." He looked over at Elliot. "You okay with this?"

"Hell, no. I'm not okay with this." He turned to look at Olivia, fixing her with a proud smile. "But I know Olivia Benson… And short of cuffin' her and throwin' her behind bars—and I'd like to meet the man who could do it—I've got no say in this decision."

ADIC Putnam had listened to the dialogue between her agents and the SVU detective, allowing Frank to take the lead… But now it was time to take back the reins. She sat forward, her elbows on the table, and took her glasses off for a moment to rub wearily at her eyes. "Detective Benson… I applaud your determination. I don't need to add anything to what Frank said—but I'm going to anyway. May I call you Olivia?"

"Yes, please do..."

"Thank you. Please, call me Connie." Leaning toward her, she looked directly into Olivia's eyes. "Olivia. Don't minimize for a moment how dangerous this situation is…" The older woman paused, leaning back in her chair. "I was out of the country when this whole 'corruption, drug kingpin, escort service' thing came tumbling down…" she said, gesturing as she described the 'Delia Wilson' saga. "I heard about it, but until today I didn't know the ins and outs of it—or who the players were. It wasn't FBI business, and it didn't fall under my purview—so I didn't need to know." She leaned forward, intently focusing on Olivia again. "But now I do. I've got you and two of my agents who are apparently a target of this madwoman, and she's mobilized a small army to help her carry out her goal—from behind prison walls, no less."

Olivia shook her head. "I know… I'm so…"

Putnam waved her hand, effectively silencing Olivia. "I spent the better part of the afternoon familiarizing myself with the case—and Delia Wilson. Including your part in bringing her down…" She looked shrewdly at Olivia. "Impressive, Detective... But you've pissed off some mighty powerful people." ADIC Putnam leaned in closer to her, forcing her to maintain eye contact. "Now I'm gonna give you a speech I know you've made on many occasions—but you're not so likely to apply it to yourself. Whatever these corrupt and wicked people choose to do in retaliation—to you, or anyone else connected to you—_will not be your fault_." Putnam leaned even closer. "Do you hear me, Olivia?"

Olivia swallowed and nodded, tears briefly clouding her eyes. She lowered her head, but when she looked back up there was a grateful smile on her face. "Thank you, Connie. I'll try hard to remember that over the next few days." She spoke quietly, but there was conviction and strength in her voice.

"Good." The assistant director turned her attention to the rest of her team. "We're at war—and we need to come up with a battle plan." She focused on Frank. "What did you find out yesterday from TARU…? Anything to lead us to Lamb…?"

Frank rubbed a hand down over his face. "Jeez, Connie—inconclusive... It's likely somethin's there, but looks like it's prob'ly an underground bunker—with lotsa reinforcement. We don't got time to dig up the grounds to find it. Or get sidetracked tryin' to…"

"But it sounds like we can go with the assumption that John Lamb is on the premises…?" Putnam looked from one to the other of her team.

"Yeah… I think that's a safe bet." Porter had been quiet until now. "We figure we were infiltrated by two operatives from Delia Wilson's payroll... plus her sister. What's to say Lamb doesn't have more of his own…?"

"What're you thinkin' Porter?" Frank leaned toward him.

"I don't buy that this is some bid to retaliate against Benson and Stabler for something that happened to his nephew ten years ago. What power does Wilson have over him…? What's his motivation? We need to figure that out… It just might be a tool we can use."

Olivia sat up straighter as a light dawned in her eyes. "That's it, Dean… That's how she operates: She pulls people into her corruption until she can control them with blackmail! Is there any way to determine if Lamb used her escort services? Even in an undercover operation? Or as a means to bribe and control other agents…?"

"Best bet is to look at his expense accounts—but it'll take some time…" Putnam shook her head wearily. "And with his obvious wealth, he may have paid for it himself. Regardless, I'll put someone on it right away…" Putnam took out her cell phone and stepped away from the table.

"Good point, Liv." Elliot smiled over at her. "If that's the case, no telling how many other agents he's dragged into this—he can call them in for reinforcement. They wouldn't even need to know what he was planning… Just act as his eyes and ears. Jesus!" He slumped back in his chair, a fleeting air of discouragement in his stance as he stole a worried look at Olivia.

"We're gonna need some r'inforcement of our own." Frank turned his attention to Porter. "You an' Benson still posin' for the cameras…?" He glanced at Olivia.

Porter rested his gaze on Olivia's face, trying to gauge whether she preferred to answer this question, and darted a concerned look at Elliot. When neither responded, he looked back at Frank. "Yes. Every evening… we convincingly… make it appear we're going to bed together." He refused to shift his focus from Frank. "Obviously, Lamb knows we're staging it... But we're hoping he thinks we still believe we're being observed by the 'unsub' in the CC murders… I mean, he's got to know we refocused the cameras, so he knows that _we know_ they're there."

ADIC Putnam came back to the table and wearily lowered herself into her chair. "They'll start immediately… but we may not get results before we need them." She addressed Olivia. "That was extremely insightful, Olivia… And Dean… thanks for taking us there. It's viable… so we're gonna go with it. We're going to assume that Lamb is on the premises and he potentially has other operatives doing his dirty work. I've just arranged to bring in our own army, and God help us… I hope it'll be enough." A worried look flitted briefly across her features before she composed her 'game' face once again. "Let's lay out our strategy."

* * *

Donald Cragen wasn't entirely comfortable with what he was about to sanction, but something in his gut told him it was the best bet they had of getting Olivia and Elliot the support they needed to come through this sting unscathed… And he didn't think he could take another minute of standing on the sidelines while two of the people he cared about most were in danger—more danger than they realized. He couldn't help but feel the burden of responsibility for Olivia being in Delia's crosshairs; so he gave his blessing when Sergeant John Munch revealed the plan he and Detective Fin Tutuola were about to launch. He watched as John talked earnestly to Nick.

"We won't think any less of you, Amaro. You might be putting your future with the NYPD on the line—maybe even your pension—so you've got to be sure. But once you commit, my friend, we do this Fin's way… No questions asked."

Nick Amaro had never seen Munch so serious—no jokes, no cracks, no conspiracy theories—the man was serious as death, and it touched something in him. "Yeah. I'm in. This is Olivia we're talking about—she's my partner."

"Okay… Rollins is in, too." The older man looked solemnly over at Cragen. "Our Captain will be covering for us."

* * *

Fin wasn't all that fond of skulking around in the woods… He'd grown up on the streets of the city where there were always lights and noise and people—no matter the hour. All this quiet wasn't natural… And it was cold enough to freeze his nuts off! Next time he'd dress warmer. He made a mental note to put night vision goggles on his list for Munch. His eyes strained to follow the movements of the man holding the cell phone to his ear—watching as he paced back and forth… He was visibly agitated. Fin crept closer, endeavoring to hear the one-sided conversation.

"Eleven o'clock? Yeah that gives me enough time to get in and subdue Benson, before Stabler shows up." I know, I know… Naked—spread-eagled on the bed. I'll sneak in earlier and have the restraints in place.

When he wasn't talking, he paced as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

"Don't worry… I'll keep her quiet. I want a little time with her myself… before we have an audience. What about the security system? ...and the security cameras?"

_Pace… pace._

"So the whole system'll be disabled at ten-fifty-five? Jesus… I'm gonna' need to find a way to keep her out of the bedroom until I'm ready. No, it's gonna' take four minutes to rig the restraints… I've timed it. Is there anyway to disable just the system on the balcony for a few minutes…? They're usually gone until later in the evening… I could sneak in, and she'd never notice until she actually turned down the blankets on the bed."

_Pace… pace._

"Okay. What's the plan for Stabler?"

_Pace… pace._

"I understand he's Kundak's concern, and it's need-to-know, goddammit! But _I_ need to know where that asshole Kundak's gonna be!"

_Pace… pace._

"If the fucker comes near Benson, I swear I'll shoot his balls off…"

_Pace… pace._

"No, I'm not protecting _her!" _I'm protecting what's_ rightfully _mine," he snarled.

_Pace… pace._

"Yeah. I hear you. What about Barrett? Who's gonna be keeping his nose out of it? He and Stabler are practically joined at the hip…"

_Pace… pace._

"Where will you be? What's your plan for Porter?"

_Pace… pace._

"So you're just gonna wake him up long enough to put a bullet in him after we take care of Benson and Stabler… What are you gonna do…? Drug him or knock him out?"

_Pace… pace._

"It just makes sense… The more I know, the more effective I can be if something goes wrong."

_Pace… pace._

"Who's gonna be out on the grounds keeping everyone else away?"

_Pace…_

"Yeah… yeah. I hear you… Sorry. I just sweat the details—feels like I'm more in control that way… You know—less likely to fuck it up."

_Pace… pace._

"I'll be ready."

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading!** **I'll do my best to have Chapter 15 up in less than a week...**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys... Thank you so much for the reviews! I really do appreciate them. Just a note of caution for this chapter... May be some PTSD triggers. Proceed with caution.**

**Chapter 15**

**Sunday, December 9th**

Olivia took a deep breath. She was tired... And sick to death of this argument. She didn't think she could bear to listen to the three men go one more round with it. She just wanted whoever was coming after her to make his strike and get it over with—so she could get on with her life. But she understood why Elliot was being so pig-headed: She couldn't fault the man for loving her—wanting to protect her. If the roles were reversed she'd be fighting it, too. So she tried to exercise patience, and took another deep breath before speaking.

"Hey! Time out! Have the three of you forgotten I'm still right here? This is my decision—not yours. I'm the reason he's coming after us." She looked at Elliot. "Stabler, you've got to step back and let me do this my way." She looked away before making her next statement. "I agree with Dean on this one: I need to be here when he comes. Lamb is smart—those cameras are there for a reason."

"Liv…" Elliot's face was unreadable, but the raw emotion in his voice expressed his pain. She raised her eyes to his and continued, interrupting whatever he'd been planning to say.

"Delia Wilson's gotten away with too much, for too long—and even though she's in prison it hasn't shortened her reach." She softened her tone, holding his eyes, and addressing only him. "I wanna be able to nail her, Elliot—put a stop to this… I don't wanna be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life—or worry about her going after the people I love. So we've gotta have solid evidence… And hope to god we can get some of her own people to testify against her."

In spite of the other two men in the room, she stepped over to him, taking his hand, forcing him to look at her. "Tell me you understand, El," she pleaded softly.

Elliot pulled her to him. He looked into her eyes, his own, dark and stormy with emotion. "I don't like it—but I understand... And you're right."

Frank cleared his throat. "We have solid intel on the timin' of this thing. Don't forget, we'll have six FBI operatives patrollin' the grounds: They'll let us know when it's goin' down—as soon as anything happens, they'll alert us. And they'll keep Delia Wilson's minion's outta the way so we can handle Lamb and whoever he brought in to do that bitch's dirty work."

Now that the group was finally in agreement on how they should play this, Porter figured it was good strategy to stay out of the conversation—no point in rubbing salt in Stabler's wounds. He didn't blame the guy, though. He let Frank give the final directives for the evening without interjecting any thoughts of his own.

"So, Stabler… You head over to the house at your usual time—just before midnight. Olivia, you keep to your usual schedule. And, Porter, stay in your room. McBride will be at the guest house with me until Stabler heads out… And we'll be right behind him.

* * *

Olivia stood in his arms, wishing she never had to leave them. Frank and Porter had given them some time together before they all headed back to their respective positions at Crestview to wait for the assault to go down. He tipped her face toward his and leaned down to kiss her sweetly, longingly. "God, Liv… I love you so much, baby." He gently caressed her face, running his fingers over her cheekbones, tracing them into her hair and fisting them in it, bringing his lips to hers again. He kissed her with a quiet desperation, before pulling away and forcing her eyes to his. "Please be careful tonight, Olivia. Don't take any unnecessary chances. Wait 'til we're there. Okay…?"

She pulled him closer, pressing her body to his and laying her head on his chest. "I promise, El," she whispered. "You know how much I love you. Right…? I just need this to be over, Elliot. I wanna go home—be with you—and the kids." She was quiet for a moment, before reaching up to hold her hand on his cheek and look into his eyes, her own shimmering with unshed tears… But the smile on her face told him the reason for them wasn't sadness or fear. "God! Do you know how good it feels for me to be able to say that? You're my _home_, Elliot… It's the first time I've ever truly felt like I have one—it's where I wanna be, babe. I promise… I'll be careful."

* * *

In spite of all the planning… in spite of all the strategizing… in spite of the FBI reinforcements patrolling the grounds—a warning never came. She'd been taken by surprise when she stepped out of her bathroom after preparing for bed: An arm slipped around her neck from behind, tightening around her windpipe. Before she could struggle she'd slipped quietly unconscious and slumped in the arms of the man who'd crept up behind her and placed her in a classic sleeper hold—a move he'd studied diligently, specifically for this moment.

He knew she'd only be out for a short time, if he'd done it correctly—ninety seconds if he was lucky. But it hopefully would buy him the time he needed to lay her on the bed, remove her nightgown, and secure her wrists and ankles with the restraints he'd attached earlier to the bed posts—all in full view of the camera. Wasting no time, he moved her closer to the bed and grasped the comforter and sheet pulling them down until he'd cleared space for him to lower her inert body to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Balancing her weight against him, he grabbed the hem of her nightgown, quickly pulling it up and over her head and down her arms, tossing it out of the way once he'd removed it.

Hoping she'd remain unconscious long enough to secure her to the bed, he sprang into action. He laid her down, lifting her legs onto the bed—feeling guilty at his inability to suppress his own physical reaction when her voluptuous curves lay naked before him. As an afterthought he pulled the sheet up enough to cover her torso. He'd decided it'd be wiser to secure her ankles first, and succeeded without her stirring. He'd just finished tightening the restraint to her right wrist when she moaned and started to move. He dove across her body, placing his left hand over her mouth, and grabbing her unsecured arm, holding her wrist tightly with his right hand.

* * *

Elliot paced back and forth like a caged animal. Something felt off: He knew there were half a dozen operatives patrolling the grounds, and the plan was for him to stay put until it was close to midnight—following their established routine; unless he received word that something was going down before that. But something was wrong—he knew it—he felt it. Icy fingers of fear crawled up his spine nearly paralyzing him. Olivia was in danger, and he couldn't stand by and do nothing. He grabbed his gun, stuffing it into the back of his pants, and throwing on his jacket. He had his hand on the doorknob, working the lock. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a soft knock on the other side of the door.

"Stabler," a voice whispered. "You in there…? Let me in, man."

"Fin…? Is that you?"

"Yeah, man… Let me in."

Elliot quickly unlocked the door, and threw it open. "What the hell are you doing here, Fin? What's going on?"

Shh, douse the lights, Stabler," he commanded, making his way to a lamp on the far side of the room and turning it off. "Delia's got men crawlin' all over out there."

"Fin, what's happening? Is Olivia okay?" Elliot's agitation increased with each question he spewed.

"Olivia's in good hands right now, but I've got a stinkin' s'picion she ain't gonna be for long. That's why I'm here."

"What the fuck, Fin! Start making some sense. Where is she?" He had to restrain himself from physically grabbing the other man and shaking him, in his desperation to find out what was happening.

"She's back at the house, in the bedroom. This things goin' down right now, Stabler, but you gotta listen t'me. We got some help: Rollins, Munch and Amaro are out on the grounds…"

"Wait a minute. There are six operatives out th…"

Not anymore—Delia's men got to 'em. They're all outta commission—looks like they been drugged. So it's up t' us. You're not gonna' like what I'm gonna tell ya, Stabler, but you gotta listen to me and for once in your sorry-ass life, don't go off half-cocked. If you give a damn 'bout Liv, you gotta do this our way. We got inside information and we been watchin' what's been goin down for th'last forty-eight hours."

Elliot made a concerted effort to calm down. He knew Fin cared deeply about Olivia, and he had to trust him. "Where's Frank?"

"Amaro jus' went to get him."

"Fill me in. Fin. What's going on?"

* * *

Frank didn't like leaving things in someone else's hands. It wasn't in his nature, and he didn't even know these agents Putnam had recruited. McBride hadn't shown up, which didn't bode well—and it was too quiet out there. He wasn't staying put for another minute. He figured his best bet was to make his way to the cottage and grab Stabler. The two of them could decide on a course of action. He left a couple of lights on inside the guest house, but shut off the ones in the kitchen, and the outside lights. He quietly opened the kitchen door and stepped out just as all the lights on the grounds went dark, leaving eerie shadows in the almost black night. He made a quick check inside the house and noted the lights were still on, but caught the reflection of one of the monitors as it shut down… That was all he needed to see: Someone just shut down their security systems. Something was dreadfully wrong—they never received an alert from the agents patrolling the grounds. He eased off the door step, staying close to the side of the house, slowly creeping along the edge until he reached the driveway.

"Frank."

He could've sworn he heard someone whisper his name. What the hell? He reached inside his jacket for his gun.

"Frank. It's Nick Amaro… Benson's partner."

Before Frank could react, a figure stepped in front of him. "Jesus Christ! That's a good way to get yourself killed, son," Frank growled, placing his gun back in its holster. "What the…"

"Shh… Let's get back inside. We gotta talk."

* * *

Porter thought he heard something outside his bedroom door and wondered briefly if it might be Olivia: Maybe she had a question—or was lonely. "Yeah, right Porter," he told himself. "She might be lonely, but she wouldn't be seeking your company." Never-the-less, he grabbed his gun and unlocked his door, hoping to find Olivia Benson on the other side—the alternative would mean things had gone awry. He opened the door. "Liv…? Is that you?" He looked up and down the hallway, but didn't see anyone, so he cautiously stepped outside to take a better look around. He failed to see a shadow around the corner, but he heard a click followed by a soft _whoosh_, and felt a sharp prick in his right shoulder. He swung around while instinctively reaching up to grab his shoulder, but before he could determine what caused it, he crumpled to the floor.

Once he was down, a man stepped from the shadows and bent over his motionless form. "Nighty, night, Porter," the man said with a sneer, as he dragged his unconscious body back over the threshold. He quickly retrieved the dart from his shoulder, and locked the door as he left.

* * *

Sergeant John Munch was making his way up the stairs when he heard a thump, as though something heavy had fallen to the floor. He heard a voice, and quickly took the rest of the stairs two at a time and dashed into an empty room. Peering out through the crack of the mostly closed door, he watched as a man came rushing down the hall and sprinted toward the stairs, making short work of his descent. John waited until he was sure the coast was clear… then raced to the door he'd seen the man exit—he was pretty certain he knew what he'd find. The door was locked, and without hesitating John kicked it open. Damn it! He'd been too late! Porter was in a heap on the floor. He quickly checked his pulse. Thank god he wasn't dead—just unconscious.

* * *

Olivia felt his hand over her mouth and his crushing weight on her body before she fully regained consciousness. Her first _conscious thought_ told her she was splayed across her bed, naked—unable to move. Her first emotion was terror. And then adrenalin pumped through her body. She tried to scream, and struggled with all her might—managing to momentarily free her wrist from his grip… but he recaptured it and held it firm. Hoping to kick or buck him off her, she attempted to move her feet, only to find the restraints were holding her rigidly in place, and his bulk held her fast to the bed. She labored to breathe, but his hand over her mouth combined with his weight across her chest, made it difficult to expand her lungs and get enough oxygen, and she felt herself getting light-headed.

He spoke her name. "Liv, Liv… stop struggling. I'm not gonna hurt you, Liv. I'm trying to help you." Through her haze, she thought she recognized his voice, but she couldn't see his face. She was terrified and continued to resist. Panic rose in her chest, depriving her of what little oxygen she had. Her last thought—before she blacked out—was of Sealview and Lowell Harris.

He took advantage of the moment, and swiftly secured her wrist. He lifted himself from her body, allowing her lungs to expand, and oxygen to flow, and she quickly regained consciousness, moaning as she came around. He placed his hand across her mouth once more, hoping to keep her calm long enough to explain what was happening.

* * *

Fin looked as worried as Elliot had ever seen him. "Sumpin's way off. If they knew 'bout th'extra security and took care of 'em that easy, they gotta know more… God knows what else they figured out. If they're on to Cassidy, he's a target too."

Elliot paced restlessly in the small area of the sitting room. He felt like he might come out of his skin if he couldn't get to Olivia soon. "Goddamit, Fin! How do you know this is the best course of action?"

"I don't Stabler, but it's our _only _course so we gotta make it work. We don't have 'nuff manpower to do it any otha way. Where 'n fuck's Amaro and Barrett? They shoulda been here by now."

The words were barely out of his mouth when they heard a light rap on the door. "Hey, Stabler… Let us in." Elliot unlocked the door and pulled it open and Amaro and Frank rushed in, shutting it quickly behind them.

"What's going on? Have you heard anything? Is Oli…"

Frank walked over to Elliot and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. "You gotta get a grip, Stabler, 'cause your pretty baby needs you to keep it t'gether. Amaro filled me in. McBride never showed up… Don't know if he defected or those assholes got 'im, but we don't have anymore backup from the FBI. We gotta work together and get in there… We gotta get Olivia and Porter out." He gestured to Fin and Amaro. "Be fuckin' grateful these guys came along—and brought night-vision goggles—'cause we just lost all the fuckin' lights on the grounds."

Fin had been watching the exchange and marveled at the calming effect Frank Barrett had on Elliot. Now that the other men were here, they had to make a plan. "Okay. We gotta make this quick an' get in there, so listen up: Looks like maybe they're settin' Cassidy up, too. He's followin' th' scrip' but I'm bettin' no one else is. He gained access and hid inside a few hours ago, so he don't know nothin' 'bout the agents bein' down."

Our biggest concern is makin' sure that sonofabitch Kundak don't get his hands on Liv. We only got Rollins watchin' th' house, so we gotta get over there. Munch is s'posed to be rounding up Porter, but I got a sick feelin' they already got to him."

"Wait, Fin… We can't just go stormin' in there. If they've got Liv, they're expecting me to show up around midnight… It's almost midnight now. I think we should stick to the plan—I can get inside and figure out what's going on."

"Elliot, if you do that, we have one less team member, and potentially one more person to rescue." Amaro was the voice of reason, but Elliot wasn't buying it.

"They think they're gonna blindside me… If I go in knowing what to expect, I've got the advantage. While I distract 'em, you can sneak in behind me."

Frank spoke. "I think he's onto somethin' that jus' might work… 'S'not like we got a lotta choices here. An' we don't know Kundak's got Olivia, yet. But we better move fast."

* * *

Sergeant Ted Kundak paced restlessly, just biding his time, thinking about how he'd gotten to this place. Christ, he'd been a member in good standing with the NYPD's vice squad until Bart Ganzel got his hooks into him—Ganzel, and the whores and the drugs and the money… It'd been a good ride while it lasted. Until Ganzel threw his weight around and threatened to expose him if he didn't arrange a hit on that punk, Cassidy. And then those asshole rookies blew it. Would've been all right though, if that fuckin' bitch Benson hadn't pushed until it all came tumbling down. But he'd been lucky: In exchange for his testimony against Ganzel, he got time served. He shook his head. Fuckin' lawyers: What a farce–a joke really. Course, he lost his pension. But then Delia Wilson contacted him from her cozy cell in Bedford Hills Correctional Facility, asking him to join her little scheme to exact revenge on Detective Olivia Benson… Well, it just kept gettin' sweeter.

That ass Cassidy thought he had it all figured out—a regular knight in fuckin' shining armor. Little piss ant thought he could tell him what to do: Like he'd pass up the chance at Benson… The bitch was hot, and she owed him. He was gettin' hard just thinking about her. Revenge, could indeed, be sweet.

* * *

"Olivia. Liv. Its okay. It's me, Cassidy. Look at me Liv… I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm here to keep you from getting hurt."

"Brian…?" She slowly opened her eyes, trying to remember why she was here and why Brian Cassidy was sitting on the edge of her bed, with his hands on her. Then it came rushing back, and with it, the terror and panic. She struggled against the restraints, once again realizing she was completely nude under the thin sheet that barely covered her. "Brian, why are you doing this…? Please untie me," she begged.

"Shhh, Liv… It's okay. We've gotta make it look like I'm doing what they hired me to do. Liv, its' the only way we're gonna get the bitch; you know it's Delia Wilson who ordered the hit on you, right?" He talked calmly to her, trying to calm her down.

Olivia stopped struggling and took a few deep breaths, trying to bring the feeling of panic under control. She was surprised—but not shocked—to see him here. The comments Fin reported about Brian wanting to get even with her were making sense now. She'd known their relationship was solid; they'd parted as friends.

"Liv, I gotta make it look like I'm attacking you, so I want you to struggle to make it real. After a couple of minutes I'm gonna pretend to hit you–make it look like I knock you out. Okay? Can you do that for me…?"

Olivia nodded her head. But when he put his hands on her and leaned closer, pressing his lips to hers, she immediately felt the panic start to rise. But she'd be damned if she'd give in to it: Her life was at stake and Brian was here to help, so she threw herself into the role she knew she needed to play, and started struggling against her constraints, thrashing her head from side to side to avoid his lips. But it felt real... And when he started kissing her neck, the panic threatened to overwhelm her: She wasn't play-acting when she struggled against him, begging him to stop.

Neither of them was prepared when a voice shattered the moment. "Cassidy! Get the fuck outta the way and let a real man do the job."

Brian pulled away from Olivia and spun around. She saw him reach to pull his gun from the back of his pants, but before he could say a word, or raise his gun, Olivia saw him crumple to the floor.

Kundak stepped closer. "Don't worry, Detective Benson… It's just Special-K. He'll be out for a while, but he'll survive. Too bad I can't say the same for you." He reached down to grab her face and brought it to his, his fingers digging painfully into her cheekbones. "But first, I got a debt to collect: You owe me bitch." He looked her over, his eyes dipping to where the sheet had fallen away from her body. Then he grinned—his eyes hard and cruel. "And you can bet I'm gonna enjoy makin' you pay."

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading! I'll have Chapter 16 up within a week (maybe sooner).**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you so much for all the reviews… I truly appreciate them! Sorry I didn't get this up sooner, but did the best I could. I plan to wrap it up in two more chapters. Enjoy. NOTE: Please be forewarned... Description of physical/sexual assault.**

_Kundak stepped closer. "Don't worry, Detective Benson… It's just Special-K. He'll be out for a while, but he'll survive. Too bad I can't say the same for you." He reached down to grab her face and brought it to his, his fingers digging painfully into her cheekbones. "But first, I got a debt to collect… You owe me bitch." He looked her over, his eyes dipping to where the sheet had fallen away from her body… Then he grinned–his eyes hard and cruel. "And you can bet I'm gonna enjoy takin' what's owed me." _

**Chapter 16**

As soon as Munch was satisfied that Agent Dean Porter wasn't wounded, but merely unconscious—probably drugged, based on the intel Cassidy'd given them—he made him as comfortable as possible, and took off after the man he'd seen running down the stairs. If Cassidy had been right, the man must have been John Lamb and he didn't want to lose him after he'd finally surfaced from wherever he'd been hiding out.

He raced down the stairs, following the route he'd seen Lamb take… When he reached the hallway leading to the front door, he noticed it was ajar. He remembered he'd been careful to close it, so he assumed Lamb had headed in this direction. He opened the door, stepping out onto the front porch, his breath making white puffs in the frosty air. He looked around cautiously for any signs of life before walking down the steps. The grounds were in total darkness, so he retrieved the night goggles from his inside coat pocket… the ones Fin had insisted they'd need—thankful he had them.

Once the goggles were in place he was able to see quite well, and he noticed movement to his left. As he was ducking behind the tall shrubbery just in front of the house, he heard someone softly call his name.

"Munch… Over here—it's me… Rollins."

Munch stepped out from behind the shrubs and took a careful look around before darting over to where she stood. "Amanda… Hey, did you see someone run out here a few minutes ago?"

"Yeah… I did. He headed around the house and followed a path about thirty feet in that direction." Rollins gestured to a point in the tree line to the right of the house. "I tried following him but then I thought I heard something… Musta been you. I was just gonna go after him. Have any idea who he is, Munch…?" Rollins sounded hopeful.

"If I'm not mistaken, it was John Lamb. He drugged Porter before I got there… He was just coming out of his room. We've gotta find him before he climbs back in his hole.

* * *

Amaro headed back toward the main house to find Rollins; the two would hopefully connect with Munch and Porter. Elliot, Frank and Fin had already headed to the house together. They'd finally agreed to follow the original plan: If all was well, he'd go in just before midnight. But they'd arrive a little early and Frank and Fin would be back-up if needed—depending on what they found when they got there.

Suddenly he saw movement up ahead… Thankfully, he had the night vision goggles Fin had had the foresight to insist on. He knew the other three men had headed out on a different path, and this person appeared to be alone. He drew a little closer, keeping to the shadows himself.

He assumed this was one of Delia's 'army' since they'd already found the six FBI agents who'd been guarding the grounds. They'd managed to drag the agents to the luxury garage attached to the house, making them as comfortable as possible. They'd checked their vital signs as well as they could without medical instruments, and determined they didn't need immediate medical attention. Time had been of the essence, so they'd left them in the heated garage to sleep it off.

As he crept closer he thought he heard a moan, and pulled back into the shadows. He pulled out his gun, and trained it on the figure standing ten feet away. "NYPD… Police. Don't move. I've got you covered."

"What the hell! Who's out there? If you're the police I could use some help here," a man's voice shot back. "FBI agent Gavin McBride… Are you with Detective Olivia Benson?"

"Give me some identification," Amaro shot back. "Keep in mind I've got a gun pointed at your head."

He waited a moment and something dropped a few feet away from him. "That's my badge and ID."

Amaro moved forward and dropped down to retrieve the object, keeping the gun trained steadily on his quarry. He moved back into the shadows after picking it up, and managed to open the small black case and take a quick glance. It appeared to be legitimate. He lowered the gun. "What're you doing out here...? Are you hurt?"

"No… but this guy could use some attention."

Amaro closed the distance between them. The groan he'd heard had come from the man sitting on the ground, handcuffed to a tree—a glove stuffed in his mouth to keep him silent.

* * *

Olivia was fully aware of the seriousness of the situation. She knew it was close to midnight and Elliot would be coming—but she had to buy some time. Kundak still held her face in an iron grip and her cheekbones were beginning to ache. The man before her was intimidating—not because of his stature, but because of the look in his eyes. She knew who he was and what his part had been in Cassidy's shooting, but she'd never met him. Out of habit, she quickly assessed his physical strength, knowing it wouldn't matter, since she was tied securely to the bed and would have no opportunity to defend herself: His body was well-muscled in spite of his age—clearly past fifty. He was fit—and strong, judging by the grip on her face. She fought the panic—striving for a calm she didn't feel. "You don't have to do this," she told him, keeping the quiver from her voice and refusing to let any tears fall. "What do you want from me?"

"There's only _one thing_ I want from _you_, bitch," he sneered, moving closer to her as she fought against the restraints—the panic in her chest suddenly looming larger and threatening to squeeze the air from her lungs. "It was damn thoughtful of Cassidy to truss you all up and lay you out for me…"

She took a deep breath and forced her voice to remain calm as she continued to reason with him. "They know you're here, Kundak… Agents are on their way right now. They'll be here before you have time to…"

He gave a harsh laugh and suddenly released his grip on her face, grabbing the pillow and yanking it from under her head. He threw it across the room and fisted his hand in her hair, painfully yanking her head back and looking into her eyes—feeding on the fear he saw there. "Nah… Nobody's coming for you, bitch… nobody 'cept Stabler. We took care of the rest of 'em." He scoffed. "They're all in la la land for the next few hours. And after you and I give Stabler a little show… he's dead meat—just like you."

She refused to believe what he'd told her—refused to be rattled by his words. "Why are you doing this? We know you're working for Delia Wilson, so no matter what you do to me…"

"Shut the fuck up!" He tightened his grip in her hair wrenching her head back, causing her to wince in pain. "We've got an agenda to follow: Gonna copycat that murdering Country Club rapist—and it's gotta look like the real deal." He smirked. "We're gonna be on candid camera, bitch, so you wanna smile real pretty… Good ol' Delia doesn't wanna miss the show—wants to make sure she's gettin' her money's worth."

He licked his lips, perusing her curves. She was determined to not react to the onslaught of his eyes on her body. Without loosening his hold on her hair, he suddenly sat on the bed, leaning over her. She flinched when he brought his other hand back to her face, but he traced a finger down her cheek and along her jaw line—almost tenderly—the action more unsettling than if he'd actually struck her. He continued, tracing along the column of her neck—finally placing his hand in a firm grip around her throat. "Mmmm, mmm… Such a pretty neck." She struggled, and his fingers slowly squeezed until she was gasping—fighting to breathe. He loosened his fingers, but still held his hand tight to her throat. She coughed, her lungs wheezing as they filled with air.

He focused on her face, looming closer. "It's a real pity they're gonna waste you… You'd make a fine playmate. What say we have a practice round while we're waiting, _Detective Benson_?" He mockingly dragged out her name, his tone degrading—dripping venom. "You may be a bitch, but fuck if you don't get me hard. You're easy on the eyes, sweetheart—a goddamned wet dream—and right now you're mine for the taking." He finally released his grip on her neck, trailing his fingers lower while yanking her head back—tilting her face closer to his own.

Olivia tried with all her might to not give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing how terrified she was… but when he roughly grasped her breast and lowered his lips to hers, she lost the battle. "No, no… no no no. Please nooooooo. Please don't," she whimpered. "Elliot, help me, pleease… Elliioottt." Olivia screamed, drawing out his name as Kundak forced his lips over hers, smothering her cries.

* * *

Elliot stood outside the balcony door to the bedroom with Frank and Fin close behind him, trying to assess what was happening inside when they heard Olivia's screams. Before he could open the door Frank grabbed his arm, and held him back. "What the fuck, get off me… he whispered, furiously. "She's in trouble! She needs me!"

"That's right, Stabler… She needs_ you_." Frank talked softly, calmly. "Let me and Fin get in there first and take care of 'im, and you go to her, Elliot… She's gonna want it to be you an' no one else." He pulled Elliot out of the way and pushed the door open, before he could argue, and Fin blocked him from rushing in.

Elliot knew Frank was right, but the need to go to her was visceral and he struggled in spite of himself as Fin physically restrained him, trying to talk sense. "Give 'im a chance, Stabler. This ain't 'bout you… Olivia's gonna need you, an' she ain't gonna want me and Frank around. We'll get Kundak outta there and you can go to Liv… She's gonna need you, man."

* * *

Olivia's instinct to fight had taken over even though there was little she could do to help herself. She struggled painfully against the restraints, and tried unsuccessfully to turn her head away from his ravaging mouth... But when he forced her mouth open and slipped his tongue inside, she didn't hesitate for a moment before biting the offending appendage with all her might. He howled, releasing her hair and jumping to his feet. "You fuckin' bitch!" His speech was impacted by the injury to his tongue, and he spat blood on the floor. "You're gonna pay, you fuckin' whore… I'm gonna fuck you 'til you're begging me to stop." He reached down, quickly unbuckling his belt, and backhanded her across the face—the smack resounding throughout the room.

"Unh!" Olivia cried out in pain as his hand connected with her cheekbone, the impact causing stars to dance before her eyes. And then she blessedly sank into oblivion.

* * *

Frank cautiously crept into the room. He noted the unconscious form of a man on the floor a few feet from the bed, and surmised it was Cassidy. A commotion drew his attention to the bed and he witnessed the scene as it played out, his anger rising like a red hot poker to his brain… He was tempted to shoot the man from where he stood, but couldn't take the risk of wounding Olivia.

Kundak clearly hadn't anticipated any interference from anyone… his focus was solely on Olivia. He suddenly yelped, releasing his hold on her and jumping up, obviously in pain… Apparently she'd bitten him, and he wiped his mouth, spitting blood on the floor. But when he reached down to unbuckle his belt, declaring his intention to rape her… and then struck her, Olivia's cry of pain cut Frank to his soul—he couldn't imagine how Elliot was handling it. He waited until Kundak undid his pants before stepping directly in front of him, his gun drawn.

"FBI," he shouted. Put your hands up and step away from the bed." Kundak hesitated and looked down at Olivia. "You make one move toward her and I'll blow your brains all over this room. Step away!" Frank walked toward him and Kundak raised his hands as he stepped away from the bed.

As soon as Fin loosened his hold, Elliot bolted through the door and rushed to the bed—not waiting for clearance from Frank… Fin raced over to assist Frank in cuffing the prisoner. "You're under arrest for attempted rape and conspiracy to commit murder. You have the right to remain silent…" They ushered him into the next room, reading him his rights. They closed the door behind them—giving Olivia the privacy she'd so desperately need.

Elliot reached to pull the sheet up, covering her body… then sat on the bed, taking her in his arms as much as was possible with the restraints. "Liv, baby, wake up… It's okay… you're okay now, Liv… It's over, baby." He gently touched her face where Kundak had struck her, swelling and an angry bruise already evident. He examined her cheekbone and jaw, trying to determine if there were any fractures or if it was just a soft tissue injury, deciding it was probably the latter—but she'd need x-rays to be certain. He looked her over for signs of more battering, his chest filling with rage when he saw the handprint on her neck. He couldn't rouse her and fear nearly choked him as he shouted to the men in the next room. "We need a bus… She's hurt!"

He laid her back against the mattress and went around the bed, quickly removing the restraints from her wrists and ankles, noting the broken skin and bruising they'd left behind: She'd obviously struggled hard against them. He climbed onto the bed and took her back into his arms, pulling her close and wrapping the sheet around her securely, holding her tightly to him as he murmured soothing words, trying to coax her back to consciousness.

He was getting ready to make his own call to 911, not certain if the others had heard him, when Frank knocked on the door and opened it, checking to see if it was okay to come in. Elliot nodded and Frank stepped into the room, and made his way to the bed. "She okay...?" he whispered, his face creased with worry.

"I can't wake her up, Frank… The bastard hit her pretty hard."

"Think anythin's broken?"

"I don't know… I don't think so, but she's gonna need x-rays. How long 'til they get here with a bus." His worry was quickly turning to frustration.

"Said it'd be 'bout ten minutes… Should be right along." Frank turned his attention to Cassidy whose inert form was still lying on the floor. He went over to him and knelt down, trying to assess his condition. "We've got more buses comin' since we don't know what kinda shape he's in or how many men we got down. Putnam's on her way, too. And a couple member's of the local police department. We gotta search the grounds… We still don't know where Lamb is, or…"

"Mmmmm…" Olivia quietly moaned as she stirred in Elliot's arms.

Frank stood. "I'll give you some privacy." The relief on his face was nearly as great as the relief on Elliot's. "I'm gonna grab Cassidy… get him out to the other room." He half dragged half carried the unconscious man into the next room, quietly closing the door.

Elliot turned his full attention to the beautiful woman in his arms—the love of his life. He wasn't certain what had transpired, but she'd need him to be strong for her. He was so thankful they'd gotten here before she'd been raped, but she'd still endured a brutal sexual and physical assault. He cursed their job choices that allowed her to be a target of this kind of depravity, and blamed himself for not being more insistent that she not continue with this operation. He should have forced her to pull out, he thought… Knowing full well no one ever forced Olivia Benson to do anything. It wasn't the kind of relationship they had or ever would have—she was her own person, and he loved her independence.

But he vowed to somehow make changes that would keep her safer. After her experience at Sealview and the effects she'd only recently fully dealt with, he was terrified of the repercussions from this latest assault. But she was strong, and in a very different place—with support systems she'd never had before… Together, they _would_ get through this.

She stirred and mumbled. "Mmmm… No, no, please..." He loosened his hold on her, allowing her to move her body, and she began to thrash in his arms. He laid her on the bed, not wanting to increase her panic by restraining her. He continued to soothe her, his hands tenderly caressing her face.

"Hey, baby… You're okay, Liv… I'm right here. Nobody's gonna hurt you." His voice broke. He felt the tears form behind his lids, and he made no effort to stem their flow.

She opened her eyes, but clearly hadn't registered that it was Elliot beside her. The terror reflected on her face tore him apart. She struggled, and he removed his hands completely, continuing to talk in soothing tones until she quieted. She raised her eyes to his, finally understanding she was safe. "Elliot…?"

"Yeah, baby… You're safe now." He tenderly pulled her back into his arms and held her tight against him, her body trembling as she became fully conscious and remembered her ordeal. "Oh god," she moaned, gingerly touching her fingers to her cheek. "My face hurts… and my head. He hit me."

"Yeah, he did, baby."

"I was so scared, El." She rested her head against his chest, trying to get comfortable. Suddenly her body stiffened and she pulled away... When she turned to face him, her eyes were wide with horror and dread. "Elliot… Did he…?"

"No, no baby, he didn't…" he assured her, lovingly caressing her uninjured cheek, as he looked into her eyes. "We got here before he had the chance, Liv."

She collapsed against him, burrowing into his arms as if she couldn't get close enough. "Please, just hold me, El." She finally broke… her sobs as much in relief for what hadn't happened as for the terror and pain she'd endured. He held her tenderly—his own tears mixing with hers. He wanted to kiss her, but was mindful of what she'd just been through and wasn't sure if she was ready for that kind of contact. They held each other until the tears subsided, and she lay quietly in his arms.

"I'm so, so, sorry," he whispered. "Olivia, I should have gotten here sooner… I should never have let you be set up for this, baby."

She jerked away from him, fire flashing in her eyes. "Elliot, this was my decision—and no one else's." She slowly reached her hand to his face—a gesture to soften her words. Her voice was hoarse from crying, but she determinedly continued. "I knew what was at stake… I knew what I was getting into, and don't you _dare_ presume that I can't handle this, Elliot Stabler! And you _did_ get here in time."

Elliot was shocked, but relieved by her outburst: Without a doubt there would be a tough road ahead for them... but she was gonna be okay. "I'm sorry, Liv. I just… I was pretty terrified—I didn't know what he was doing to you…" He hesitated as emotion overwhelmed him. "I hate seeing you hurt, baby," he whispered brokenly.

It was her turn to comfort him… Sometimes she forgot how hard it was for him. She reached up and touched his face as she raised her lips to his, kissing him lightly, the motions causing her to wince in pain. "I do hurt…" she admitted. "…all over." She groaned, as she settled back into his embrace.

He gently ran his hands over her neck and shoulders, trying to ease some of the pain. "I expect you're gonna be sore, the way you struggled against the restraints." He took one of her hands in his, examining the scraped skin and bruising on her wrist. "I'm guessing you probably sprained and pulled muscles in your back and shoulders, too. I'm afraid you're gonna be pretty uncomfortable for a few days, baby."

"Oh, my god…!" She looked up at him, her face full of concern. "What about Cassidy…?"

He's okay, Liv… he's okay. He's right out in the other room. He was drugged—he's sleeping it off. But he's gonna be fine, baby." He gently brushed the hair from her face. When he combed it back into place with his fingers, lightly raking her scalp, she gave a low hiss, and reached up to pull his hand away. "What is it, Liv?"

Her breath caught and she turned away, trying to hide the emotion threatening to overtake her as she remembered Kundak's painful grip on her hair.

"Olivia… Tell me, baby…" A siren interrupted, piercing the night, and the moment passed—but Elliot determined to pursue it later. "The bus is finally here... Good."

"Elliot I don't need a bus… I'm okay."

"Olivia, don't even start this conversation with me… At the very least we need to find out if there are any fractured bones in your face, or if you've got a concussion. You were unconscious for at least ten minutes, Liv. And the abrasions on your wrists need to be tended."

She knew it was pointless to argue with him so she let him think he'd won. This night was far from over, and she'd be damned if they were gonna drag her off to a hospital, before she saw this thing through. She'd allow the attendants to check her out, and convince them she was fine. "I need some clothes, El… Can you help me get dressed before they get in here?" The look on his face told her she was pushing it, so she quickly clarified. "I only need my pajamas and a robe. I'm naked under this sheet, Elliot… Remember?"

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading. Chapter 17 will be up in one week.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey everybody. So much for wrapping it up in two more chapters! The story seems to have taken on a life of its own, and I'm just gonna go with it. Thank you all for reading… and especially for reviewing. It is much appreciated.**

**Chapter 17**

Upon stepping closer to Gavin McBride, Nick Amaro realized the agent hadn't been quite truthful when he'd said he wasn't hurt… He didn't look so good. "Hey… are you okay?" he asked, as McBride stumbled and fell to his knees, an obvious blood stain spreading across the front of his jacket. Amaro quickly knelt beside him. "You've been shot, man… I need to get you some help."

McBride groaned and attempted to stand up, but Amaro gently pushed him back down, helping him into a sitting position on the ground. "Yeah, I've been hit in the shoulder… It's bleeding some," he rasped, obviously in pain.

Amaro opened the other man's jacket to assess the wound: It was serious enough, but it didn't look life-threatening as long as the bleeding was brought under control. He stood and tore off his own jacket and shirt until he was standing in his tee-shirt, which he whipped up and over his head. Kneeling again, he folded it and placed it against the wound, causing McBride to gasp in pain. "Okay, you need to hold that there as tight as you can," he instructed, placing McBride's hand against the shirt and pressing hard. "You've gotta keep pressure on it."

McBride followed Nick's directive, pushing the tee-shirt tightly to the wound—the action causing him to grimace in discomfort—but he continued to talk while Nick put his own shirt back on. "I saw what was going down: I found three of our operatives unconscious; I think they've been drugged..."

"Yeah, you're right... they were. Except they got all six of 'em." McBride groaned, and Amaro wasn't certain if it was in response to his news or in reaction to the pain. "They're okay... Me and my buddies from the 16th Precinct got 'em into the garage... It's heated, and they can just sleep it off until we can get some medical help out here."

"You did good. Thank you... We're damn lucky you came along. Benson's got some good people backing her." McBride was silent for a moment, resting and working through the pain. When he continued, his voice sounded weaker. "So I've been following Delia Wilson's people... until we lost all the lights on the grounds. Near as I can tell, there were two out here and two more in the house." He winced and fell silent once more, gritting his teeth through another wave of pain. When he began to shiver, Nick placed his jacket over him, tucking it around him instead of putting it back on himself… in spite of the falling temperature.

You need to rest while I go get some help." He stood. "Hey, you said there were two of Delia's men out here… Where's the other one?"

McBride gestured with his head. "The one cuffed to that tree…," he grunted, taking a moment for the pain to pass. "s'the one that shot me …and the other one's back at the guest house. He's out cold—I hogtied him with the rope from the blinds in one of the windows."

"Okay, sit tight and keep the pressure on it… I'll be back as soon as I can." Nick took off at a run, but hadn't even cleared the trees when he heard the sirens… It seemed they were close, and he sprinted to the head of the driveway, hoping to god they were headed this way.

* * *

Frank looked at Fin when they heard the sirens, and both gave a sigh of relief. "Jesus… Thought they'd never get here… " He shook his head throwing a sheepish grin at Fin. "I know she's not hurt bad, but goddamn, I'll feel 'lot better if somebody takes a look at her."

Fin nodded his agreement… trying—but not succeeding—to shield his own eyes from the other man. Frank looked closer at him with dawning realization: The detective had some pretty serious feelings for the lady and was having a tough time masking it at the moment. "Yeah, me too," he mumbled, looking away.

"You an' Olivia have some history, Tutuola?"

Fin's head shot up… dismayed that he'd been so transparent. "Nah, we jus' been at the 1-6 more'n a decade's all… We been watchin' each other's back a long time."

Frank let it go, knowing there was a whole lot more to the story, but respecting his right to privacy. He nodded in Kundak's direction. "Com' on, maybe we can get rid of this miserable prick, now the cavalry's here… I figure the cruisers'll be right along."

He stood, hauling their prisoner to his feet, a lttle rougher than was necessary… ignoring his bitter protestations. Frank wasn't a violent man: In fact, he was a man of infinite patience—come the need for it. But knowing what that miserable excuse for a human being had tried to do to Olivia—and the pain he'd inflicted on her—was enough to drive any decent man to brutality… He was so tempted to take Kundak to a back room and beat the crap out of him it made his fist twitch just thinking about it. And by the fire in Fin's eyes when he looked over at Kundak, he figured he felt the same way about the bastard… Yeah, it'd be good to get the son-of-a-bitch off their hands before one of them was moved to violence.

* * *

Amaro met the first bus as it pulled up, with a second right behind it. "We got a gunshot wound over there in the trees," he yelled, as the EMTs jumped out of the vehicles. One crew grabbed a stretcher and raced into the house, and Amaro led the other team into the wooded area, carrying a stretcher between them.

"McBride, hey man… Help's here," Amaro called as they reached the site where he'd left the injured agent. He was close to losing consciousness, and Amaro leaned over his slumped body, trying to rouse him. The medical crew took over and quickly loaded him onto the stretcher, making him as comfortable as possible. Before they took off, McBride reached out a hand to Amaro. "You need the key—to the handcuffs…" His voice was weak, and his hand fumbled as he reached into his pocket to extract the key and hand it to him. He gestured toward the man cuffed to the tree, his words slurring, now, and the medics anxiously waited to move him along. S'a gun... Silencer... few yards b'hind th'tree... An' you need y'r coat… take it." He feebly made an attempt to pull the coat away from his body as Amaro protested. But the injured man was insistent, and addressed the medics attending him. "He's gon'freeze out here... I don' need it." Amaro reached to take it, and McBride grabbed his hand. "Thank you."

After Agent McBride had been whisked away, Amaro turned to the prisoner. He'd be in danger of hypothermia setting in if he wasn't released soon. He made a quick search in the bushes beyond the tree, spotting the gun with no problem... thankful once more to Fin for the night-vision goggles. "Come on. We got a cruiser waiting for you…" Nick uncuffed the man—re-cuffing him as soon as he stood—and marched him along the path through the trees.

When they cleared them and came out onto the driveway, Munch and Rollins were standing by the cruiser waiting for him. Hey, Nick… over here," Rollins gestured to him and he headed in their direction. An officer met him and relieved him of his handcuffed burden, and he sauntered wearily over to his teammates.

"Where've you guys been…? I could have used a little help." His words were a challenge but his teasing tone belayed his good humor, and his eyes reflected his relief at finding them.

"We think we sighted John Lamb, and we've been chasing him through the puckerbrush, if you must know," Munch quipped, clapping him on the back. He sounded as tired as Amaro felt. "We were forced to give up the chase—in spite of our 'state-of-the-art' equipment…" He held up his pair of night-vision goggles, dangling them from his fingers. "We're forced to wait until morning."

"Can I talk you two into joining me to retrieve one more prisoner?" He quickly explained his chance encounter with the wounded Agent McBride, and the man he'd captured and handcuffed to a tree. "He left another one in the guest house… Said he knocked him out and hogtied him."

By the time the threesome reached the guest house, they could hear shouting. The man had clearly regained consciousness, judging from the steady flow of creative language coming from inside. They pushed the front door open and found him looking none-the-worse-for-wear, other than a foul temper and even fouler mouth… Between the three of them, they replaced the rope with handcuffs and hauled him up, marching him out the door and across the grounds toward the flashing lights from the police vehicles. Fin and Frank were there, having just escorted Kundak to one of the waiting cruisers and placing him—none-too-gently—inside.

* * *

Two young men bearing Emergency Medical Technician logos on their blue uniforms rushed into the bedroom wheeling a stretcher just as Olivia—with Elliot's help—finished putting on a nightgown and robe. They'd expected to grab her and whisk her off to the hospital… but by the look on Olivia's face when they attempted to do just that, they could clearly see it wouldn't be happening.

"You really should let us get you to the hospital, Detective, so you can be properly checked out."

"I don't need to go to the hospital… Just check to see if I have any symptoms of concussion…"

Elliot knew he'd have a fight on his hands… Goddamn stubborn woman! "Olivia, you need to see…"

"Elliot, I need to see if I have a concussion… I agree… that's important. So let them check me out."

She requested that they move to the next room for the exam. She wanted to get as far away from the reminder of her assault as possible, so she gingerly made her way to the sitting room with a little help from Elliot, noting how wobbly her legs felt now that she was moving around. She perched on an arm of the couch while the medics conducted their exam, as Elliot lingered nearby… no intention of letting her out of his sight.

The two technicians went to work listening to her heart and lungs, taking her blood pressure, and checking her pulse. They looked unsettlingly alike in their blue uniforms—probably because they were so young and had similar coloring and hairstyles, she decided... feeling suddenly old. 'Tech 1' tipped her face up toward his and shone a light in her eyes, while 'Tech 2' asked her questions, and jotted down her answers:

"Did you receive a blow to the head?"

"No… I was backhanded very hard across my face."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"Yes, for a short time."

"She was out for about ten minutes," Elliot interjected, while Olivia shot him a death glare.

'Tech 2' looked at her skeptically with the raise of an eyebrow. "I guess it could've been ten minutes," she huffed, refusing to meet Elliot's eyes.

"Have you been experiencing any headache?"

"Yes."

"How about fuzzy or blurred vision…?"

"No, none at all."

"Nausea or vomiting?"

"No."

"Dizziness?"

She hesitated.

"Liv…?" Elliot looked at her with concern.

"No… I was just a little unsteady when I walked from the bedroom into here. But I hadn't used my legs at all, since…" She didn't finish, and Elliot stepped closer, wanting desperately to take her in his arms and hold her.

"Any sensitivity to light or noise?"

"No."

"What's your name."

"Detective Olivia Benson," she said, rolling her eyes and looking mildly irritated.

"What's the date?"

"Uh, Sunday, December 9th, 2012. I mean… I guess its Monday by now, isn't it…" she stated.

"And who is the President?"

"Obama."

"Okay… That's it. What'd you find?" he said looking over at 'Tech 1.'

"Her eyes are focused and appropriately reactive to light."

'Tech 2' quickly reviewed his notes, before speaking. "You have two of the indicators on the list, so it's possible there might be a slight concussion. The fact that you lost consciousness concerns me the most."

Olivia looked miserable, but knew she needed to provide more information if she was going to convince them she was okay. "I don't think losing consciousness had as much to do with being struck as it did with the state of panic I was in at the time… I was being assaulted." She looked down, but continued. "I have a history of panic attacks, and on two occasions I've lost consciousness while having one… due to lack of oxygen."

The men were quiet for a moment before 'Tech 2' spoke up. "That shines a very different light on it, Detective. I expect you're right… especially since you didn't receive a direct blow to the head." Let's have a look at your face, now." He reached up and gently probed her cheek.

"Ow…," Olivia gasped, embarrassed to have reacted, but unprepared for the pain that radiated through her cheekbone when he palpated it, searching for any indication of broken bones in her face.

"Do you think anything's broken?" Elliot asked, stepping closer.

"It's really hard to tell, because there's already so much swelling… but I don't think so. We won't know for sure without x-rays."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "It's not broken… Maybe a hairline fracture, but I'm sure it's not a break. How would it be treated?"

"They generally let it heal on its own. However, if the x-ray reveals that it's a break clean through and the bones have separated and are pushing on your sinuses, they may need to do surgery to fix it."

"Liv, you need to get an x-ray."

* * *

Dean Porter groaned as he opened his eyes to find himself lying on a bed, being poked and prodded. He tried to sit up… in fact was sure he had, until he realized—what seemed like hours later—he was still lying down and still being poked. On closer inspection, it appeared someone was taking his pulse and someone else was listening to his heart. He struggled to remember where he was and how he'd come to be in such a state, thinking perhaps he'd been shot—but felt no pain and found no other evidence to support it. The EMT technicians finally left him, instructing him to continue lying down and assuring him someone would be right along to assist him.

* * *

Assistant Director Putnam had arrived on scene and set up make-shift headquarters in the sitting room on the first floor of the house. An easel holding a large dry erase board had been brought in, and stood ready for use. She was buzzing around the room checking in with her agents while they waited for the rest of the group to arrive.

Olivia sat nestled in the corner of one of the settees—her feet drawn up under her—Elliot hovering close by. Her wrists and ankles had been treated with antibiotic cream, and then bandaged, and she'd been given specific instructions for caring for them. She was reminded—at least four times—by the EMTs _and _Elliot, that they weren't doctors… but she'd finally managed to convince 'Tech 1' and 'Tech 2' she'd be fine. However, Elliot wasn't so easily persuaded: Only after promising him she'd go to the hospital for a facial x-ray and complete check-up in the morning, did he relent and not drag her to an emergency room himself.

She'd quickly changed into comfortable clothes—long-sleeved and loose-fitting to cover the bandages and bruises, and accommodate the aching muscles in her back, shoulders, neck and arms. She couldn't hide the damage to her face… The bruise and swelling on her face was becoming more pronounced and she'd be lucky to not have a black eye by morning. Elliot had scrounged up some ice and insisted she hold it to her battered cheek. She'd downed four Excedrin and a bottle of water hoping to diminish the throbbing in her face and head, before Elliot escorted her downstairs for the meeting to review the events of the evening and plan their next move.

Dr. George Huang sauntered into the room after examining the agents who'd been drugged. When he saw Olivia, he made a bee-line in her direction. "Olivia. Mind if I sit?"

"That depends, George… I'm in no mood to be psychoanalyzed," she said, but her words were softened with her smile as she patted the space beside her.

"I'll save the psychoanalyzing for later… I just wanna know how my _friend_ is right now, Liv." He reached to take her hand, and she let him.

"I've been better…" She gave him a side-long glance quickly pulling her eyes away. "…but I'll survive."

He squeezed her hand, as ADIC Putnam called his name. "I wanna see you in the next couple of days, Liv," he said quietly, rising from his seat beside her before walking over to where Putnam was standing by the easel.

"Dr. Huang's gonna give a brief rundown on the condition of the agents who were drugged… she smiled in Porter's direction. He'd joined them and was sitting across from Olivia in an overstuffed chair drinking black coffee, looking dazed and confused, and slightly chagrinned. He'll also give us a brief dissertation on Special K."

Huang thanked Putnam and smiled at Dean. "I'm happy to say that all the agents… and Brian Cassidy, have been assessed by me and the EMT's and have been deemed to not require further medical attention."

There were thankful murmurs throughout the room and a general sense of relief at the news.

"Based on information provided to Detective Benson, we assume they were drugged with Special K... better known as Ketamine. Everything I've observed supports that information, and we'll have the bloodwork results for a final evaluation. Ketamine is a dissociative anesthetic drug, originally used as an animal tranquilizer. It has a myriad of uses, most recently lauded for its immediate effect in treating depression and bi-polar disorder. In your line of work, you probably recognize it more for its notorious street value as a recreational drug." There were a few appreciative chuckles, by those who could relate only too well.

Huang continued. "In this case it was probably mixed with another powerful sedative and then administered as an intramuscular injection—via dart gun. Whoever prepared the mix knew what they were doing… The victims were out of commission for a couple of hours, with relatively no ill-effects. Recovery time will last several hours, during which time they may feel confused and disoriented, and slightly head-achy—symptoms of a relatively mild hang-over."

Putnam came back to reclaim her position beside the dry-erase board, and stood with a black marker in her hand prepared to jot down whatever salient points might be tossed back and forth among the ragtag crew that had been doing battle with Delia Wilson and her minions.

"I want to thank everyone for your performances… above and beyond the call of duty." She glanced meaningfully in Olivia's direction, but knew this was not the time to bring attention to the dedicated detective. "Reinforcements have been called in… You may have run into a few of them milling around these rooms. They're searching for any evidence that might lead us to John Lamb. Ted Kundak is ready to spill his guts—already looking for another plea bargain… He'll be cooling his heels at the Hempstead police station until someone has time to interrogate him. I'm afraid we're a little short-handed between our continued search for Lamb, the drugging of our operatives, and the injuries that've been sustained."

Olivia felt self-conscious and purposely tuned Putnam out, letting her mind wander as she perused the room. Cassidy was conspicuously absent. She was aware he'd been taken into custody until questioning could be completed. It was unclear to her whether it was to protect his cover or because he was genuinely a suspect, but she was profoundly relieved to not have to face him right now.

Her teammates from the 16th Precinct were absent, too. She hadn't known of their involvement until after the fact, and had yet to talk with them. Since it was an FBI investigation, and they hadn't been 'officially' brought into it, Putnam had dismissed them, trying hard to sound convincing in her admonishment of their interference in an FBI sting—when it was crystal clear to everyone just how grateful she was for said interference. They'd left the house, but had stayed close by… Frank had given them access to the guest house for the overnight.

Olivia noted Frank was standing in the doorway leaning against the frame, apparently too much adrenaline coursing through him to settle anywhere. She drew her attention to Elliot, and a desire so strong surged through her—to be in his arms and away from everything—had she not been sitting, she suspected her knees would've buckled.

She turned her attention back to the assistant director when she heard McBride's name. "Word has just come in that Gavin McBride is in surgery to remove the bullet from his shoulder, but the prognosis is excellent for a full recovery. All in all, he was damned lucky."

Nods of agreement and murmurs of general consensus erupted, and Putnam took a moment to observe the exhausted and bedraggled group before her. She brought the meeting back to order. "You all look like hell, and we need to get a few hours of sleep before morning light. I've got a few more business items, and then we're all gonna go find a bed somewhere."

Frank, I want you and Elliot to interrogate Kundak in the morning. Talk to Cassidy first—he's being held for his own protection_—_but he's got a lot of information." She brought her gaze to Olivia and spoke to her in a quiet, but very firm voice. "Detective Benson… You're to stand down. You and I will meet when this is over."

Olivia nodded. She didn't have the fight left in her to argue tonight… Her body was definitely feeling the effects of her earlier ordeal. The throbbing pain in her face was matched by an equally painful headache, and the muscles in her back and shoulders felt like they were on fire, threatening to spasm with every move she made. And the thought of facing Kundak, even in an interrogation room with Frank and Elliot beside her—caused a feeling of panic in her chest.

"Okay, everyone—that's it for now. Good-night… and I'll see most of you back here at first light."

* * *

Olivia, Elliot and Frank made their way to the Master Suite. They'd decided it made sense to stay at Crestview for the few hours of sleep they'd be afforded, but Elliot wasn't about to have her spend another moment in the bedroom where she'd been attacked—much less the bed it'd happened in… so he'd come back to the room with her while she packed a bag. Frank would crash in one of the many guest rooms, and had accompanied them so he and Elliot could quickly go over their game plan for morning, while he waited for Olivia to pack.

She'd gone into the bathroom to gather the things she'd need, but came back out, interrupting Elliot and Frank. "Hey El, I forgot about the Jacuzzi in here… I think I'm gonna soak for a bit… see if I can relieve some of the tightness in my back and shoulders."

Elliot came over to her, overwhelmed with concern as he once again surveyed the damage he could see, knowing her clothing covered so much more…. And the physical manifestations didn't even begin to show the damage done to her psyche. He gently placed his hands on her arms and looked into her eyes. "You sure, baby…? D'you need any help? Frank and I can do this in the morning…"

"Yeah. What th'hell are we thinkin' Stabler. I'll head upstairs and let you two get settled. Goddamn, Olivia… You need to get off your feet and into bed before…"

"Guys, I'm fine…" She held up her hands and attempted a smile that became a grimace when her cheek muscles rebelled with shooting pain. "I really just need a good soak in that tub, so you might as well settle in and go over your plans…" She looked beseechingly at Elliot. "I know I'll sleep better… Please, El, just go in the other room and stop hovering."

"Okay." He looked deeply into her eyes. "I love you. Call me if you need anything… We'll be in the sitting room." He pulled her to him and tenderly placed a kiss at the corner of her mouth, being careful to not hurt her.

* * *

Olivia was finding the relief she sought as streams of hot water pulsated over her body from the water jets in the Jacuzzi. She leaned into their warmth, her body finally relaxing. She felt the tension leave her back, neck and shoulders, relieving the pain and easing the spasms. She refused to allow her thoughts to wander to Kundak's assault on her, but found herself wondering about Cassidy's part in it… She hadn't had the opportunity to talk with her SVU teammates from the 16th Precinct, so there were a lot of gaps that needed filling in, not the least of which was Brian Cassidy's role. She did know that things would have turned out very differently had it not been for her family at the 16th, and tears of gratitude rolled down her face.

* * *

Elliot and Frank were settled in the sitting room going over their interrogation strategy, when they heard a knock on the door. Elliot shot a questioning look at Frank. "Could be they've got some news of Lamb…" the older man speculated as Elliot got up from his seat and went to answer the door.

He opened the door, but seeing no one there, stepped cautiously into the hallway, realizing even as he did, it was a mistake. His last thought was 'how could I be so stupid,' when the butt of a gun came crashing down over his skull, sending him to his knees… He didn't pass out, but stayed in a kneeling position, trying desperately to remain conscious and get out of the situation. He expected it was Lamb, and tried to turn his head when he felt a gun pressed just behind his ear, and a decidedly feminine voice demand he not move.

"Put your hands up! You move and I'll blow your brains out…"

"Okay, okay… You've got the gun… I'm not gonna do anything stupid."

Frank heard the commotion and jumped up, understanding immediately the dangerousness of the situation. He crept quietly to the door, being careful to stay out of sight, knowing it was their best bet if he hoped to intervene. He recognized the woman as Agent Jessica Abramsen… or better known as Tonia Crandall—Delia Wilson's sister.

"Where is she?" she demanded pressing the gun harder into the back of his skull, emphasizing she meant business.

Elliot knew who she was looking for, and though he hadn't yet seen the woman holding the gun to his head, he recognized her voice. He played dumb. "Where's who…? Who're you looking for?"

She jabbed him harder with the gun. "Don't play me! That bitch cop, Benson," she spat with a vehemence that chilled Elliot to the bone.

Frank realized what was going on and knew he had to remove Olivia from harm's way. He quietly made his way to the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

* * *

Olivia heard a commotion. She'd been adjusting the controls on the Jacuzzi, but shut off the water to better hear what was going on in the sitting room. She heard Elliot's voice and the voice of a woman shouting. She wondered briefly if it was Assistant Director Putnam, but knew it didn't make sense… It wasn't her style. She quickly got out of the tub and grabbed a towel, toweling off just enough to throw on her clothes.

Frank could hear Olivia moving about in the bathroom, and expected she was probably dressing. He took out his phone and made a couple of quick calls: One to the director, apprising her of the situation; and one to Fin—once again lining up some help from the SVU team, since they were close by.

* * *

Tonia Crandall nudged Elliot with her foot, keeping the gun jammed against his head. "Get inside!" He had no choice but to comply, hoping to god Frank had read the situation right and was making an effort to get Olivia to safety; he'd never been more grateful for the balcony off the bedroom. He started to stand, but she planted her foot in the middle of his back and pushed him forward, sending him sprawling. "Stay on the floor," she hissed. "Just get through the door."

* * *

Frank knocked softly on the bathroom door, and Olivia opened it immediately. "Shhh…" Frank held a finger to his lips signaling for her to be quiet.

"What's going on, Frank?" She asked the question calmly, already knowing in her heart that Elliot was in danger.

Frank motioned for them to step back into the bathroom where they could talk without being heard. "Tonia Crandall—Delia's sister… She's got Elliot, Olivia." Before he could stop her, she pulled the door open and headed for the sitting room, moving quickly, but silently. The door was open just a crack, and she stood mesmerized, taking in the situation.

"Where is she?" The woman raged at Elliot, the high color on her cheeks and the unnatural glint in her eye, telling a story that sent chills up Olivia's spine… She watched in shock from her view through the narrow opening of the bedroom door, sure she was going to come completely unglued as the scene unfolded before her: The horror of what she'd just been through with Kundak paled in comparison to the terror that gripped her heart as she watched the man she loved at the mercy of this crazed woman—with a gun pressed tight against his head.

"It's not over, Olivia… Not by a long shot," Frank whispered as he quietly stood behind her. "I need to get you out of here… You're in more danger than Elliot is—you've gotta come with me. She's makin' her way to you by usin' Elliot as a shield… She's not gonna hurt him 'til she gets to you." He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders—showing his support—grounding her, and gently trying to lead her to safety.

Olivia felt herself flinch at Frank's touch—knowing it was a backlash to the earlier assault… But she needed Frank's support right now, so she worked herself through it, forcing herself to relax under his hands. "I can't leave him, Frank."

"Yes, you can. Olivia—you know it's what he'd want." He tried for a little levity. "An' if I let anythin' happen to you, he'll have my hide. We'll figure this out. Come on, Fin's outside… He's gonna get you outta here."

Olivia turned on him so fast he took a step back. Tears coursed down her cheeks, as she had her say—her voice a whisper, but her words shouting the message. "Frank Barrett, my whole _world_ is in there on his knees, with a gun pressed to his head: I'm not leaving… It's me she's after—Elliot had no part in this case." She lowered her eyes, as though trying to somehow summon the strength she knew she would need. When she lifted her face to his again, there was nothing but pain—abject misery, as she whispered her next words. "He's got _kids_, Frank."

The devastation on her face knocked the wind out of him and he paused, gathering his bearings. "You listen to me Olivia…" He spoke to her the way he'd have talked to a child, his voice gentle, but firm—unyielding. "If you want him to see those kids again, you'll stay out of sight and come with me… She's got no reason to keep him alive if you go in there."

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading. Chapter 18 will be up in one week or maybe less… It seems to be writing itself.**


	18. Chapter 18

**_Hey Everyone. So sorry not to get this up sooner... Life happens. As always, a big thank you to all who are reading this fic, and especially to my faithful reviewers. I appreciate the time you take._**

_Olivia turned on him so fast he took a step back. Tears coursed down her cheeks, as she had her say—her voice a whisper, but her words shouting the message. "Frank Barrett, my whole __world__ is in there on his knees, with a gun pressed to his head: I'm not leaving… It's me she's after—Elliot had no part in this case." She lowered her eyes, as though trying to somehow summon the strength she knew she would need. When she lifted her face to his again, there was nothing but pain—abject misery, as she whispered her next words. "He's got __kids__, Frank."_

_The devastation on her face knocked the wind out of him and he paused, gathering his bearings. "You listen to me Olivia…" He spoke to her the way he'd have talked to a child, his voice gentle, but firm—unyielding. "If you want him to see those kids again, you'll stay out of sight and come with me… She's got no reason to keep him alive if you go in there."_

**Chapter 18**

John Lamb raced through the tunnel leading away from his hidden world for the second time in as many hours—his Glock held down by his side. Things had not gone as planned. He'd been so smug—thought he'd covered every contingency… But Cassidy was right: Things _could_ go wrong.

He needed to get back into the house without being intercepted. He climbed the rungs of the heavy metal ladder, pulling himself along with one hand—holding the Glock tightly in the other—until he was a few feet below the trap door. Wrapping his gun arm tightly around one rung, he reached into his coat pocket with his other hand for the small remote control that would open his way to the world above. He pointed it at a spot all but concealed from view about a foot above where he stood on the ladder, and listened for the familiar whine and creak that told him his portal to the world above was being cleared for opening. When he no longer heard the strains of a heavy object being moved, he took one more step up and used his head and shoulders to push on the metal door above him. Although he'd checked his monitor just moments before heading out, he opened it cautiously… just enough to determine the garage was still empty: Everything was silent and he laid his gun along the edge, pushing himself up and through the opening.

He stood quickly, and reached down to grab his gun, taking the time to close the cleverly disguised portal to his underworld… He pointed the remote control at a point a few feet above the floor hidden below the workbench, and watched as the heavy tool chest slid back into place. Satisfied he'd thoroughly sealed it up he slowly crept along the wall toward the door leading to the enclosed walkway connecting the garage to the house.

* * *

"Do you have a death wish?" Tonia shouted, kicking him again as he made a motion to stand. "Stay on your knees… And put your hands behind your head."

Elliot slowly pushed himself back up and assumed the position she demanded.

She looked around the room, noting the door leading to the bedroom. "Is that her bedroom in there? Of course it is," she muttered to herself before he could answer, a malicious grin spreading across her face. "We're going into the next room, Agent Stabler. Are we gonna find your _woman_ in there?"

* * *

Things happened so fast, Olivia never had the opportunity to respond to Frank's entreaty that he be allowed to take her to safety. Frank grabbed her and bodily lifted her away from the door, pushing her against the wall and putting a finger to his lips, his eyes admonishing her to stay put. Olivia leaned heavily against the wall, dread filling her chest, as she strained to listen to whatever was taking place in the sitting room. She heard a scuffling, and then a new voice—one she didn't recognize.

"Let him go, Tonia… This was _never_ gonna end this way. I don't wanna hurt you, so just let him go."

Elliot and his captor heard the voice at the same time, but when Elliot turned his head to see what was happening, her fist shot out and cracked him across the face, splitting his lip. As he started to lose his balance, he felt her arm snake around his neck and pull him into a stranglehold, the gun still connecting with his head. Blood dripped from his mouth.

"Fuck you, John… You know I can't do that. You _know_ my sister; she trusted me to make this happen; you're supposed to be working with her, you son-of-a-bitch. You can kiss your career good-bye! She won't let you get away with this—you _do_ _remember_ Delia Wilson, _don't you?"_ she intoned with bitter sarcasm. "You better have eyes in the back of your head!" She tightened her arm around Elliot's neck and jammed the gun harder against his temple.

"Don't do this, Tonia… Don't ruin your life for her. She doesn't care about you or she'd never've put you in the middle of this mess. Right now you've only got a few charges against you. You cooperate and I'll see they go away."

Elliot wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he recognized the man's voice—it appeared John Lamb wasn't the monster they'd thought. "Listen to him, Tonia. He knows what he's talking about: You help us, an' we'll see that you walk away from this." He was gonna use everything in his power to keep this from escalating, because he knew her ultimate goal; she had to be stopped before she got to Liv.

"Shut up!" She viciously rammed the gun tighter into his scalp, breaking the skin and drawing blood. She turned her attention back to John Lamb. "I'm obviously gonna have to do this myself… You're all a bunch of inept morons. My sister might as well have hired trained chimps—they'd've done a better job. So back off, John, or I'll put a bullet in his head right now. Better yet… get Olivia Benson in here or he's a dead man. You've got five minutes to find the bitch. And you can start with the bedroom."

Elliot winced against the pain she'd inflicted, tightly closing his eyes. His head was reeling, and he felt bile rising in the back of his throat, his worry for the woman he loved so acute he scarcely had emotion left to be frightened for his own safety. He had to do something… And he knew this wouldn't end well.

* * *

Olivia pushed herself away from the wall, stark terror on her face as she looked beseechingly at Frank. He hoped he wouldn't need to bodily restrain her, and his eyes conveyed as much. She understood his concern and gave an imperceptive nod—but he got it, and visibly relaxed his stance. There wasn't enough time to get her out of the room now, since John Lamb was making his way toward the bedroom door. He hoped to god someone from the 16th Precinct had reconnoitered to the front of the house and would be approaching the entrance to the sitting room soon.

Lamb stepped into the bedroom, his gun drawn. Frank stood behind the door, his body shielding Olivia, his own gun held on the man coming into the room. Lamb looked around and his eyes met Frank's… Giving no verbal indication he'd seen them, he continued deeper into the room. "Olivia Benson… Are you in here…?" he called, going through the motions of checking the closets and bathrooms—making as much noise as possible—drawing attention to himself so Frank could hopefully get a drop on Tonia while she was distracted.

* * *

Elliot understood that one of two things was happening: Either Frank had succeeded in getting Olivia out the balcony door, or they were still in there and John was covering for them. He knew he'd need to make a move, and soon. "She's not in there… Did you expect her to come back here after she was assaulted…?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Tonia raised her hand to strike him again. He knew how risky it was, but he seized the moment to launch out with his elbow, knocking her off balance, and loosening her grip on him. He jerked out of her grasp and hit the floor, kicking her legs out from under her as he quickly rolled away. She fell and the gun went skittering across the carpet, discharging when it fell. She recovered and dove for the gun before Elliot could get to it. She grabbed it, pointing it in his direction and he hit the floor again, managing to roll behind one of the settees, as she discharged it in his general direction.

* * *

Olivia had no vantage point to see what was going on. Her heart was in her throat, and when the first shot rang out, she screamed. "No!" When the second shot came, her knees buckled and she slumped against the wall behind her, her hand over her mouth to cover her sobs—tears flowing down her cheeks.

Frank came out from behind the door, his gun drawn, but not before Lamb had made it over the threshold. "It's over, Tonia! Put the gun down! I don't wanna do this… Don't make me."

Tonia took her attention away from Elliot and turned her gun on Lamb. "You traitor," she screamed.

"Drop the gun or I'll shoot." The command came from the door leading into the hallway, where Nick Amaro stood—his gun trained on Tonia. She continued to advance on Lamb, oblivious—or uncaring. A shot rang out hitting her in the shoulder and her gun tumbled from her hand. She fell to one knee, but reached for the gun, raising it once more in Lamb's direction.

"Goddamnit, Tonia… Why?" Lamb's words were a sad lament as his shot rang out and she fell lifeless to the floor.

Frank quickly turned his attention to Olivia, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, hey, pretty lady… It's alright—he's not hit… It's over—Elliot's okay." Before she could take it in, Elliot appeared around the door.

"Liv!" Elliot raced to her side and Frank stepped out of the way, making room for him to take over. He pulled her into his arms and she clung to him, sobbing. "Liv, I'm okay, baby… It's over."

* * *

**Monday, December 10****th**

Pandemonium reigned for the next few hours: FBI brass, the coroner, the local police, and members of the 16th Precinct, all in and out, milling around—doing their jobs. A bus had been dispatched, but Elliot had soon sent it and it's occupants on its way. By four AM, the body had been removed to the local morgue, the police were gone, Lamb had been whisked away by the Feds, and Captain Cragen had arrived on the scene with IAB in tow to gather up his team and head back to the precinct to deal with the NYPD brass for their part in the events.

A small group of bedraggled agents, and Olivia, were once again seated in the makeshift head-quarters in the downstairs sitting room. Elliot refused to be pried away from Olivia's side and kept a firm grip around her waist, no longer caring how unprofessional it might appear; Olivia had no intention of objecting. She remembered Fin and Don had both found their way to her before leaving, expressing their relief and hugging her tight, but she'd still been in a state of shock and barely knew if she'd had the presence of mind to even thank them.

Assistant Director Putnam looked over her group. "It's been a long night, people… You've done a hell of a job, but we've got a lot more ahead of us before we put this to bed. Porter, you seem to have recovered nicely… I'd like you to fill in for Elliot in assisting Frank in the questioning of Cassidy and Kundak at eight o'clock. And Elliot… you and Detective Benson need to head to the local hospital to be checked out—both of you." When Elliot started to protest, she leaned forward. "Did I in any way make that sound like a suggestion? That is a direct order! The rest of you: Find a bed… Go to sleep. We'll reconvene back at headquarters at noontime." She turned her attention to Elliot and Olivia once more. "If, and _only _if the doctors give you clearance, I'll see you there, too." She shifted her attention to Frank. "Frank, drive them to the Emergency Room and see that they get back here safely." She looked over at a bristling Elliot, and rolled her eyes. "And Frank, pay attention to what the doctor tells them, and make sure they do it."

* * *

In spite of Putnam's orders, Elliot was still fighting the idea: "Olivia, you're seriously gonna give me a hard time after you refused to go to the emergency room last night?" He was incredulous.

"Elliot, I didn't have a head wound—you _know_ this is different. Listen, I promised you I'd go in and be checked out in the morning, anyway... Besides, it's not like we have a choice—I'm pretty sure Putnam will fire your ass if we don't," she chuckled. "And I don't think either of us is up to taking Frank on," she added with a smirk, giving the older man a fond smile.

Frank was too tired to argue with Elliot and one look from the older man told him he meant business and Elliot better get his ass in the car. The trip to the Emergency Room was quick, thanks to the early morning hour… and relatively painless. Elliot did indeed have a slight concussion. The doctor cleaned and dressed his split lip and the broken skin on his scalp, and gave him a packet of Tylenol for the headache—stressing the importance of not using anything like aspirin that had blood-thinning properties.

While Olivia's X-rays showed no fractures and she had no evidence of concussion, the doctor admonished her to get some much-needed rest, and to use Ibuprofen to reduce the pain and swelling in her face. He recommended she continue using the Jacuzzi to ease the discomfort of her other injuries.

He reluctantly cleared them both for the noontime meeting, only if they returned to bed-rest immediately after. In the meantime, he told them to go home and get some sleep, giving Olivia instructions to wake Elliot every two hours to check on him.

As per Putnam's instructions, Frank conferred with the doctor himself before leaving the Emergency Room with his charges, with full intention of seeing they followed through on them.

* * *

Elliot opened one eye, disturbed by a soft whimper coming from the dark-haired beauty cradled in his arms. They were both exhausted from the events of the past eight hours, their bodies aching and uncomfortable from the injuries they'd each sustained. He gently pulled her closer to him, swearing he would never allow her to be placed in such abject danger again: Not if he had any command of the situation. She snuggled against him and raised her eyes to his face, worry flickering across her features. Her loveliness was barely marred by the bruising under her eyes—from both her exhaustion and the blow to her face—or the discoloration from the contusion spreading a vivid purple and blue across her right cheekbone; she simply took his breath away.

"Hey, you're awake." She stated the obvious, peering blearily at the clock setting on the stand beside the bed. She groaned audibly as she painfully shifted her position. "You could've slept for another hour before I needed to check on you, El. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine… And I'd rather watch you sleep. You're beautiful you know," he whispered, placing a tender kiss on her brow.

She responded with a bitter scoff, her voice groggy from sleep. "Yeah, 'cause blue and purple are _so_ my colors…" she said exaggeratedly, rolling her eyes. "You've got it bad, Stabler."

He chuckled. "You have no idea, Benson. Hey…" He hesitated, reluctant to ask the question. "Were you havin' a bad dream, baby?" He ran his hand gently over her back and shoulders, knowing she was still feeling the painful effects of her ordeal with Kundak, carefully watching her eyes for any sign that she was minimizing the emotional effects it'd had on her.

"I don't think so, El—really." She never broke contact with him, looking steadfastly into his beautiful blue eyes, seeing all the love they held for her. "Why…?"

"You were kinda cryin' in you're sleep, baby." He brushed errant pieces of hair away from her face, lovingly cradling her cheek. She knew how concerned he was, and truth be told, she was a little worried herself. But they were together, and relatively unscathed—compared to what might have been. She was determined to not let this take over her life the way Sealview had; this time she had loving support.

"I really don't think I was having a bad dream… I was probably just uncomfortable. I promise I won't hide anything from you, El," she said softly, reaching up to caress his face. She tenderly ran her hand into his hair and lightly over the goose egg on the back of his scalp. "How's your head? It feels like the swelling's gone down some, babe…"

"Yeah…? It still aches like a bastard… How soon can I take more Tylenol?"

"Not for at least another hour… Sorry." She gently stroked his temples hoping to ease the pain. "You must be exhausted, Elliot. I know I am," she acknowledged with a yawn. "We can still get a couple more hours of sleep. I'm sorry I woke you, El."

"Don't you _ever_ be sorry—do you hear me?" His tone was fierce with love. "Do you know how grateful I am that you're here _to_ wake me? Don't you ever be sorry for that, Olivia Benson!"

"Okay," she said, so softly Elliot wasn't sure he heard… But the lone tear making its way down over the bruise on her check clenched at his heart.

"Oh Liv, baby… I'm not angry—I…"

"I know, Elliot. You love me—so much." Gazing into his eyes, she brought her fingers to his lips, her touch delicate—featherlike. "How'd I ever get so lucky, El…?" Slowly, sensuously she pressed her lips to his, kissing them tenderly—careful to avoid the painful split there. She pulled away engaging his eyes again. "I love you, Elliot Stabler…" she breathed, her voice hitching. "An' I just wanna go home."

* * *

In spite of the exhilarating sense of relief that it was over—at least the danger—in Olivia's mind there were lots of loose ends to tie up, and questions that needed answering. As much as she dreaded seeing Cassidy after their last encounter, there were answers only he could give her; but she was beyond curious to understand Lamb's role in the whole thing. And while she was more grateful than she could express, she needed to know how her SVU teammates had managed to be there when she needed them most.

She sat across from Elliot as one by one the battle-weary agents plunked their coffees down and joined them around the table. Porter and Frank were running late. Putnam, seated at her usual place at the head of the table, cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention. "I just heard from Frank… He and Porter'll be along in about fifteen minutes—Brian Cassidy will be with them."

She looked at Olivia, and gave her a knowing smile. "You'll be very happy to know, Detective: We have everything we need to put Delia Wilson in solitary confinement for the rest of her life… When we're done, she'll have no contact with the outside world. Between John Lamb's and Brian Cassidy's testimonies, and Kundak's plea bargain, we've got her cold. John's gonna join us later and tell us about his role, as soon as the brass are done with him.

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading! Chapter 19 will be up within the week (hopefully!).**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you for your patience on this one… I've been down with the 'killer' flu – Whatever happened to flus only circulating in the winter?! Anyway… There'll be one more chapter after this. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 19**

"Delia Wilson approached me a few months ago—just after she'd been incarcerated. She gave me some cockamamie story about wanting to write a book on true crime and she was curious about the Country Club Murders… She knew I'd been involved in the investigations from the start."

Olivia shifted in her seat, still uncomfortable from the battering her body had taken. "Why did she come to you, Agent Lamb…? What made her think you'd cooperate?"

Lamb leaned back in his seat, scrubbing one hand wearily down over the stubble on his jaw. When he looked back at Olivia, a half-smile flitted across his face—having little to do with humor and not quite reaching his eyes… "She thought she had something on me—something she could use to blackmail me into helping her."

"Did she?" Olivia had no qualms about asking the question.

This time the smile did reach his eyes, and he took a moment to silently assess the woman across the table from him, once again noting her loveliness—not diminished despite the bruises inflicted by Kundak. "I'd used her girls in the past, Detective." He hesitated, one eyebrow quirked—waiting for her reaction. When none was forth-coming, he continued. "What she didn't know, was my use of her girls was legitimate…" He made a nod in Putnam's direction. "It'd been sanctioned by the FBI: I was involved in an undercover sting, and it was warranted."

Olivia gave a lopsided grin, as she raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

"I didn't believe her story for a minute. I knew she had some diabolical plan. But I was curious, so I let her think she had me over a barrel. I met with her a few times… got her talking. And turns out she had one thing on her mind: You, Detective Benson." Lamb leaned across the table and looked at Olivia. "You were the target of all her anger... She'd become obsessed with you; she blamed you—irrationally, of course—for the collapse of her empire."

Lamb sat up, leaning across the table toward Olivia—as though they were the only two people in the room. "I knew her reputation, Detective… I'd watched the whole thing unfold in the media. When your name came into it, I remembered Agent Stabler mentioning you; I knew you two were involved. So when Delia Wilson talked about her hatred for you… I sat up and paid attention."

Olivia felt an involuntary shudder go down her spine.

Lamb pushed back in his seat again. "I started feeding her the story of my nephew, Drew Lamerly… I'm sure you both remember him." He glanced over at Elliot before turning his attention back to Olivia. "I used it to my advantage: I told her about the role you both played, and his ultimate death in a prison court yard—and the toll it took on my family; I told her I blamed you for the deaths of my mother and my brother—convinced her I wanted revenge as much as she did. She bought it—she devised a plan and contacted me."

Elliot had been listening intently, one eye on Olivia and the other on Lamb, but he'd heard enough… He was clearly trying to control his anger. "So why the hell didn't you expose her plan, John? Why put us all through this… and risk Detective Benson's life?"

"Because it would never have stopped her, Stabler… Believe me, if I'd thought for a minute there was an easier, better way to do this, I'd have been all over it." He leaned toward Elliot, raw passion burning in his eyes. "That woman would've succeeded one way or another, in taking Detective Benson's life. Revealing Wilson's _intention_ to commit a crime wouldn't have accomplished anything: She'd have been given a slap on the wrist—lost some of her privileges… We couldn't have touched her and she'd have gone right back to it: She was singularly-minded—like a dog with a bone. And her reach outside those prison walls was not to be believed. This way, at least I had the inside scoop… I could run interference on her. And it gave us a chance to catch her in the act; our only shot at putting an end to her reign of terror."

"You son-of-a-bitch! So you just figured you'd set up a sting and use my girlf…, uh, Detective Benson, as bait," he bristled. "What the fuck, John?" Elliot was furious. Between his lack of sleep, the dull aching in his head, and the horror Olivia had been subjected to, he was one step from losing it. But when he felt a light kick to his shin, his eyes skimmed across the table… The expression on Olivia's face told him he'd better settle down or he'd have her to contend with. He slowly relaxed back into his seat, keeping his focus on her; looking contrite.

Assistant Director Putnam had been watching closely and she'd seen the exchange between Benson and Stabler. It wasn't lost on her how quickly Olivia had defused the situation… although she couldn't say she blamed Stabler. She cleared her throat. "Okay, gentlemen… Remember, we're on the same team here."

"I'm sorry, Lamb… I apolo…"

"No, Stabler..." He held up his hand as he deferentially shook his head. "No apology needed… In your shoes, I'd be pretty damned unhappy, too." Elliot acquiesced and leaned back in his chair, attempting a smile that manifested as a grimace. Lamb made a quick appeal to Putnam for permission to continue. "I'd like to defend my plan if I may; it wasn't as slipshod as it may have appeared," he stated with a rueful grin.

The Assistant Director readily agreed. "Yes... by all means, John. I, for one, need to know what the hell was going on here."

"Yeah, I really am sorry about that, Connie." His expression denoted his sincerity. "I figured it would be better if you weren't brought into it: That way you could orchestrate standard procedure, which was critical. I didn't know who could be trusted and the fewer people that were aware of it, the better our chances were of succeeding." Lamb made a cursory look around the table as he addressed the other agents. "I won't belabor this, and I won't go into a lot of detail. And please feel free to interrupt with questions."

Porter spoke up. "How about you start with your reasoning for pulling me into this mess…" His words were softened as he smiled in Olivia's direction.

"That's easy, Agent Porter: For starters, you're a damn good agent. But more importantly, you have a history with Detective Benson. I wanted to surround her with people who cared about her—people who'd be invested in keeping her safe." Olivia felt a blush color her cheeks, and for the first time was thankful for the bruising on her face, hoping it would cover the evidence of how uncomfortable this was for her. "My preference would have been for Stabler to go undercover as your husband, Detective." He addressed Olivia then glanced apologetically at Dr. Huang. "But the good doc saw fit to veto that idea."

Huang grinned, shaking his head. "And I stand by my decision."

John gave an appreciative chuckle and continued. "But when Porter went under as Jason Randolph and Barrett took over as handler it worked out better than I could have hoped: I needed agents who could see through the ruse—who'd question the validity of the intel… Porter already questioned it." He turned toward Frank. "That's why I called you in on this, Agent Barrett. I knew you'd never buy it, either. In the end, it was a better arrangement: Barrett, Benson and Stabler worked well together. And having Porter under with Benson kept you on your toes, Stabler," he allowed with a smirk. "I couldn't have planned it better… and I had no doubt you'd protect her with your life."

Elliot grunted in acknowledgement, glancing over at Olivia—knowing this couldn't be easy for her. She met his eyes, letting him know she was okay.

"Using the Country Club Murders was the perfect cover… Crestwood gave me a setting that allowed an enormous amount of control: Between the security cameras in the house and on the grounds and the cameras in the Master Suite…" He looked apologetically at Olivia, but hurried on. "…and my ability to observe from my hidden bunker, I was able to monitor everything; I was never more than four or five minutes away from intercepting anyone intent on inflicting harm on you. And let me say… I had the utmost confidence in your ability to handle this, Detective Benson."

Olivia gave a grim smile. "I appreciate that, Agent Lamb… but a heads-up would've been nice."

"I didn't know you well enough, Detective… If I had I might've done it differently, but I had a decision to make and I played it the way I thought best at the time. Besides, I didn't want Delia Wilson getting off on some technicality… like a coercion defense."

"And I'm more than grateful she'll no longer be a threat to me or the people I love," Olivia replied softly, stealing a glance at Elliot.

Lamb gave Brian Cassidy an appreciative glance. "As it was, I was infiltrated: Thankfully, it turns out, since—unbeknownst to me—Delia sent more muscle to the party. If you hadn't brought the NYPD crew on board, it might have been a different outcome." He turned his attention back to Olivia. "You have a hell of a lot of people who care about you, Detective Benson… enough to have your back."

Olivia's eyes welled at the overwhelming response from her friends and teammates in her hour of need. "Yeah." It was all she could manage around the lump in her throat.

"Of course, I didn't _know_ Cassidy was there to rescue you: He had strict orders from me to do nothing but subdue you until Stabler arrived. But as soon as Kundak showed up and Cassidy was down for the count I was on my way to intervene. By the time I got there the cavalry had it under good control… From there it all went down very differently than I expected: But I swear, Detective, I would have kept you safe… one way or the other."

Olivia appreciated all that John Lamb had done, but she was over-whelmed, over-tired, and there wasn't a portion of her body that didn't ache—including her head. She managed a weary smile. "Thank you, Agent Lamb."

Frank had taken it all in and was ready with some questions of his own… "So what 'xactly was your plan, Lamb? What shoulda happened?"

Lamb leaned back in his seat, looking suddenly tired. He wearily rubbed a hand across his eyes and peered over at Frank. "Delia Wilson was very clear on how this was supposed to go down… She ordered me to film it for her." His look of disgust bespoke his abhorrence, and he sighed before continuing. "Cassidy was supposed to subdue Detective Benson and Kundak was ordered to wait for Stabler to arrive and subdue him. Then Cassidy would … uh, rape her, while Stabler watched—and then they'd shoot them both. It was my job to incapacitate Porter, and bring him to the scene to shoot him, making it look like I was trying to rescue them but got there too late. I would have shot him in self-defense and he'd have been blamed for their murders."

Frank looked intently at Lamb. "What was the real plan?"

Lamb leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, meeting Frank's eyes. "I was supposed to find Porter and fill him in on the situation, and together we would have arrested them once Cassidy proceeded with the assault… _before _he'd harmed her."

Olivia had heard enough. It felt surreal, hearing him describe the diabolical plan—knowing she'd been the intended victim. She quietly excused herself from the table. Elliot started to stand up—his face a mask of concern as he took in how pale and wan she looked. She shot him a look, indicating—in no uncertain terms—that he should stay.

"After I realized the Detective was safe, I went to find Porter and found him out cold… I figured Kundak must have done it to insure he'd get no interference from him while he assaulted Benson. Since Kundak had been apprehended and Benson, Stabler and Porter were safe, I knew everyone would assume it was over except for finding me… But I still had a few concerns, so I went back to watch the monitors."

Elliot was confused. "Lamb, did you know Wilson had placed backup around the grounds?"

"No. I didn't know anything about it until afterwards. I didn't know there were extra agents either. Or that they'd been tranquilized. Although that doesn't surprise me, since it was how we were supposed to handle Porter." He looked over in time to see Porter raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"So did Kundak administer the Ketamine to me… or someone else?"

Frank spoke up. "It was Kundak… for exactly the reason you figured, Lamb. He confessed, knowing it would come out when he testified." Frank hesitated. When he continued his voice dripped with loathing and sheer contempt contorted his features. "He's 'bout as low as a man can get."

"I know everyone's exhausted so I'm gonna wrap this up, and maybe we can take a break." Lamb paused for a moment, looking down at his hands folded in front of him on the table. Without raising his head, he spoke... a tone of defeat in his voice. "It was not my intention that Tonia Crandall die. She was a by-product of Delia Wilson's evil… a young woman desperately trying to please her older sister. And while I am thankful that Detective Benson and Agents Stabler and Porter are safe, it grieves me that this young woman had to die." He cleared his throat and raised his head; his eyes were haunted. "I got to know her: I was the one who created the path for her to pose as an agent. Under different life circumstances, Tonia Crandall would have been a good person and a productive citizen."

Lamb lowered his eyes for just a moment and when he spoke again, his voice was strong and his demeanor professional—all FBI—all business. "After the way things played out, I was concerned that it wasn't quite over… which is why I went back to the bunker to monitor what else might be going on around the grounds. As soon as I detected Tonia, I knew what she had in mind… and I knew I had to stop her." He looked around the table, and rested his eyes on Elliot. "And you know the rest."

Assistant Director Putnam stood slowly. Okay, let's take a break. Elliot, I want you and Olivia to go home…"

Elliot started to protest, although it's what he wanted… to get Olivia home. He was concerned about her.

"I believe those were the doctor's orders weren't they, Frank?"

Frank chuckled. "Yeah, Connie… From th'doctor's mouth to my ears."

"Elliot, take her home. There're a couple of things on your desk you should probably look at before you go. I don't wanna see you back here until next Monday."

* * *

Olivia had left the conference room when she could no longer bear to listen to everyone discussing the things that had happened… and the things that were supposed to have happened—to her—as though she wasn't there. She felt a little guilty, but knew her presence wasn't needed. Though it bordered on unprofessional, she was comfortable in the knowledge that everyone knew her well enough to understand. She'd taken a few moments to wander around outside, the cold air bracing and welcome. Before heading back, she popped into a café and grabbed a coffee to go. She'd almost reached the conference room as Elliot was coming through the door. He looked as worn as she felt, but when he saw her, his eyes lit up and he rushed to pull her gently into his arms.

"Hey… Are you okay, baby?"

"Yeah. I'm just ready to go home, El."

He kissed her, mindful of his injured lip. "Well you're in luck 'cause I've just been kicked out 'til next Monday," he informed her, an infectious grin lighting his face. "I've just gotta wrap up a few things on my desk. Shouldn't take too long if you wanna come with me."

Olivia hesitated. Out of the corner of her eye she'd noticed Brian Cassidy watching them. She gave Elliot a smile denoting how happy she was they'd be going home, but declined his invitation to accompany him to his office. "You go ahead. I have a few things to take care of myself." She reached up and kissed him once more and stepped out of his arms. "If I'm not there by the time you're done, call me."

* * *

After Elliot headed to his office Olivia approached Cassidy, avoiding his eyes. "We need to talk, but I need to do something first."

"Okay… Good. Conference Room B is empty—the one around the corner." Olivia made no reply, so Cassidy continued, stumbling over his words. "Uh, okay then. Guess I'll just go… wait for you, there." When he walked away she stepped back into the conference room. Everyone had left to take a short break except John Lamb who sat at the table jotting notes into a day planner. He looked up when he heard Olivia approach.

"Detective Benson… Please, sit. I have a few things I wanted to tell you… things you need to hear."

Olivia's confusion was evidenced by her furrowed brow. "Agent Lamb…? What do I need to hear that hasn't already been revealed?" Her concern was obvious.

Lamb indicated she should sit, smiling as he took in her worried features. "Believe me… you want to hear this, Detective," he said, his tone gentle. "The cameras that were installed in your suite were never used inappropriately." He studied her face, watching for any indication that she understood what he was trying to tell her. Her face showed subtle signs of relaxing… her brow less furrowed. "The ones in the bathroom were for show only. The one over the bed was only used yesterday… and only to ascertain if you were safe."

Olivia's relief was palpable. "Okay. Thank you."

"And Detective, I am so sorry to have put you in such a position. But the truth of the matter is Delia Wilson would never have stopped until she'd accomplished her goal. I took what I believed to be our best possible shot at taking her down."

Olivia looked steadfastly into his eyes. "I know."

* * *

Brian Cassidy had waited for Olivia in Conference Room B. He'd needed to tell her how sorry he was about allowing her to fall into Kundak's hands, but he knew how difficult the conversation would be and he'd wanted to afford her some privacy—she'd had enough stolen from her in the past eighteen hours. She'd finally joined him and there was no doubt how uncomfortable she was with the conversation; she had yet to look him in the eye as he stood before her, his head inclined—hoping to engage her… But she focused her attention on a spot on the floor.

Olivia had dreaded this conversation: She hadn't fully processed Cassidy's 'pseudo assault' on her. But she'd been through enough therapy at this point to know she needed to face it and talk it through; otherwise, it would haunt her. And she was done with the emotional skeletons that robbed her of her peace of mind. So she took this time—while Elliot was otherwise engaged catching up on things in his office—to clear the air with him. When she spoke, her voice was quiet; detached. "So I'm assuming you used a sleeper hold on me—that's why I was out for a while…?"

"Yeah. But you were out for less than two minutes, Liv. I just didn't wanna risk hurting you, and I knew I had to make it look real."

Olivia leaned more heavily against the doorframe, unwittingly putting more space between their bodies—still refusing to look at him. "And while I was unconscious, you—undressed me—and secured me to the bed." Her throat was so dry she was finding it difficult to talk.

"Liv… I'm sorry, I... I mean… We have a history, so…"

"Seriously Brian…? We were intimate—one night… a hundred years ago." She finally lifted her eyes to his, a lone tear trailing down over the bruising on her battered cheek. Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she admitted to him what she hadn't yet uttered, even to Elliot. "Last night—it felt like I'd been assaulted… twice."

Cassidy looked wretched and turned away. "I'm so sorry, Liv. That's not how it was s'posed to go down. I was trying to protect you… I was terrified for you, Olivia. Word on the street was that bitch was looking to hire someone to _rape_ and _murder_ you—and I heard Kundak was interested. I knew what he was capable of: He's the one who ordered the hit on me!"

"I know, Brian. I remember… from the trial."

He struggled for control, seeking her eyes once more—hating what he needed to tell her: "I put out my own word that I was looking to get even with you, too. It wasn't long before Delia contacted me through one of her girls and they put me in touch with Lamb—only I wasn't allowed to meet him—just communicate by phone; I didn't know who he was until after… I just thought he was one of her henchmen." Cassidy tentatively reached for her hand. She flinched when he made contact, but didn't pull away. He tenderly ran his thumb in a soothing motion over the soft skin there as he searched her eyes, imploring her to believe him. "I fought to be able to handle you _instead _of Kundak: I told 'em it was the only way I'd hire on—told 'em we had a history an' you owed me. I warned 'em to keep Kundak away from you or I'd walk. Olivia, I swear… I thought it was under control—he was supposed to handle Stabler."

"I know, I know, Brian." She reached out and rested her other hand on his arm. "I really do appreciate what you were trying to do…"

"Jeez, Liv… I kept telling you it was me and not to be scared, but you just kept fighting me…"

"I was flashing back…" she intoned miserably.

"Flashing back…? This happened to you before? Olivia… Were you _raped_?"

She lowered her eyes. "No, no. I was undercover… in Sealview Prison. I was physically and… sexually assaulted—by the Captain of the guards… but not raped." He could barely hear her whisper.

"Liv… Hey. Look at me…" She raised her eyes to his, and he tenderly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm so sorry, Olivia." The pain in his eyes conveyed the sincerity of his remorse. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that again—and I was a part of it. I was tryin' to buy some time—I knew the cameras were on and we were being watched… I had to make it look real. And to take it far enough to make sure we could nail her ass… And I knew Fin and the guys were gonna be there soon."

"So how did you bring them into it, Brian?"

"It was Fin… He stalked me for days, thinking I was really gonna hurt you." He grinned down at her. "He finally confronted me: I thought the man was gonna kill me before I could convince him I was trying to help you, too. But when I was able to tell him exactly what was going down, when it was gonna happen, and who the players were—and asked for his help—he figured I was on the up and up. We worked out a plan and he talked Cragen into letting the crew back our play. An' a good thing, too: Nobody knew about the extra goons Wilson brought in… except Tonia."

"Brian… I really do appreciate what you did. In the end, if it hadn't been for you and the 16th Precinct, we'd never have been ready for them. Lamb might've been able to pull it off… but I'm glad I didn't have to bank on it." She stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading… The final chapter—Olivia's Birthday—will be up soon.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey guys. So sorry it's been taking me longer than usual to update, but I'll make this guarantee: I will never leave you hanging indefinitely… hopefully never longer than ten days between updates. I'm notorious among friends and family for my neurotic need to complete whatever I start. That being said, I'm finding that this story is continuing to call the shots, and while I thought I'd be wrapping it up this week, it seems there are still some chapters to come. Oh well… What can you do!? Hope you enjoy…**

**Chapter 20**

During the ride back to the city—finally heading home, Olivia sat quietly looking out the window. She was subdued and Elliot tried not to press her, understanding she'd need time to process all that had taken place in the past few weeks—especially the last thirty-six hours. In spite of her claims that she was fine, and she'd known what she was getting into, he knew better than to minimize the effects of the sexual assault. He glanced over and reached to take her hand, gently squeezing. When she turned toward him making eye contact, he noted how exhausted she looked. "Hey, baby… I'll be so glad to get you home and tucked into bed, Liv. I know how worn out you are… _we both_ are." Her smile was appreciative and she returned his squeeze before turning toward the window again and retreating into her world of silence.

Elliot was worried she was closing down and shutting him out… He waited a few minutes before attempting to engage her once more. "I called Kathy and let her know everything's okay… She's gonna contact the kids. Oh, Eli told me to say 'hi' and he's been drawing pictures for you… Apparently, he's used up most of the paper you got him." The mention of Eli elicited an animated response as she turned to face him.

"I can't wait to see him, El…" She hesitated, her voice clogged with emotion, and her eyes tearing up. "God, I've missed him... Think we can see him later tonight? I mean, after we've had a chance to rest a bit."

"I don't know, Liv—he has school… And I think we should go home, go to bed and not get up until morning—we're both exhausted, baby."

"Yeah… you're right."

"How 'bout we make plans with him for tomorrow after he gets out of kindergarten… He can come over and we'll have pizza."

"Sure… that sounds good," she agreed, but she couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice. Olivia knew he was right. But as exhausted as she was, she had a relentless need to fight sleep—put it off for as long as possible. She felt a cold dread in the pit of her stomach. What the hell? Where did that come from? It was_ over_ and they had _survived_—they were going home—_together_. What the hell was wrong with her?

* * *

After a stop at the post office to collect their mail and a quick run to the market for a few essentials, they were finally home. Elliot had insisted Olivia remain in the car while he'd hurriedly done the errands. Between the bruising on her face and the discomfort from the strained muscles in her back, shoulders and legs, she was more than happy to comply.

Once home he'd filled the tub with hot sudsy water and finally persuaded her to soak while he put everything away. She was as concerned about him—considering he was concussed—as he was about her, but she was just too exhausted to fight him. She sank gratefully into the steamy bubbles and gingerly stretched her body, leaning back against the bath pillow he'd thoughtfully placed there for her. Her mind wandered as she soaked, at first to all the things she'd need to catch up on, and then to more personal things—like the fact she'd yet to start her period… She wasn't concerned about a pregnancy scare—they'd been very diligent about birth control. She assumed it had more to do with her body's reaction to the extreme stress and trauma of the past few weeks… She did wonder if it was an early symptom of perimenopause, as her forty-fifth birthday loomed ever closer.

She lowered herself deeper into the tub and felt her body relax, appreciative of the relief the warmth brought to her aching muscles. She must have dozed because suddenly she jerked awake, a familiar sense of foreboding settling on her chest—making it hard to catch her breath. She sat up quickly, forcing herself to breathe slowly and deeply until the moment passed. She was okay… she'd expected this and she'd get through it. This time things were different: She'd gone into this with her eyes wide open—she'd known exactly what to expect, and this time she had Elliot by her side… So why was she dreading going into that bedroom and crawling into bed with the man she loved?

And then the monster that'd been stalking her psyche finally emerged from the shadows—rearing its ugly head like a fire-breathing dragon intent on consuming her with the truth. She wasn't afraid to go to sleep: She was terrified of her body's reaction to the inevitable moment when Elliot took her into his arms to make love to her. Their injuries weren't serious… They were both uncomfortable at the moment, but under any other circumstances it wouldn't be enough to keep them from having sex. What if she froze? What if she flinched when he touched her intimately? She felt a sharp pang of panic as her chest tightened. What if she had a panic attack? But they'd slept in each other's arms for a few hours this morning, and it'd been fine… Much more than fine—it'd been comforting and healing… But it hadn't been sexual.

"Liv…? Olivia… You okay? Just breathe, baby."

She hadn't realized Elliot had stepped into the bathroom and was kneeling by the tub, trying to get her attention. She jumped when he reached to touch her, only further convincing her of what she was most afraid of. He reached over the tub and gently pulled her into his arms, soaking his tee shirt in the process. "Hey, baby… It's okay, it's okay. What happened, Liv?"

"I, uh—I think I had a dream," she sniffled.

"Okay, baby… Let's get you out of here. You need some sleep—we both do. Come on…" He stood, gently helping her up and out of the tub, wrapping a big soft towel around her. He winced and anger coursed through him as he took in all the bruising on her body that she'd been diligently hiding under her clothes: Her wrists were an angry purple and were scabbing over in the places where her skin had been broken; the marks on her neck were starting to fade, but you could still clearly see a hand print there; and her ankles were bruised and chaffed. But the bruises on her breasts were the ones that almost brought him to his knees: He hadn't noticed them before and she hadn't mentioned them… The bastard had touched her more intimately than he'd realized.

"Elliot…?" Her voice quavered and his heart broke when he saw how forlorn she looked—like a lost little girl. He pulled her to him and she burst into tears.

"Hey, it's okay, baby. What's this about… Huh?"

She sobbed harder, and he held her close while she dripped on the floor, soaking his pants now, as well as his shirt. "Elliot… what if…" She hiccoughed, unable to finish her thought.

"What if what, Liv…?"

She wrapped her arms around him pulling herself as close to him as she could get. "What if…" she hesitated again and he took her chin in his hand gently lifting her face to his.

"What, baby… Tell me what you're afraid of, Liv."

"What if I can't…? What if I panic—when we make love?" she whimpered, her body shivering in his arms.

"Oh my god, Olivia… baby. Is that what this is about? You know I would never touch you unless you wanted me to, Liv…" He firmly held her chin, encouraging her to look into his eyes. "You tell me when you're ready, and you call the shots, baby… You know that, Liv."

"I know, El," she agreed miserably. "And I want you… so much. Not right now," she quickly clarified with a shy grin. "I hurt all over, and we're both exhausted."

"Yeah…" he agreed. He placed his hand on her uninjured cheek, gently pulling her head to rest on his chest… then tightened his arms around her. "Is this okay… me holding you like this?"

"Yeah," she whispered softly. "This is good."

Elliot was actually relieved that she'd been this forth-coming with him: He'd expected repercussions, but he hadn't expected her to be this open about them—he accepted it as a positive sign. After a few moments he spoke again. "Think you're ready to get into bed…? I wanna tuck you in, baby."

* * *

As good as his word, Elliot lovingly tucked her in then climbed into bed beside her, tenderly drawing her into his arms and pulling her close. He looked down at her. "Is this okay, Liv… Am I hurting you?"

"Unh-uh… This is good," she allowed, snuggling in closer and resting her head on his chest, just under his chin. "How's your head, El…? Does it still ache, babe?"

"Yeah, it's still pretty sore, but I just took more Tylenol." He pulled her close.

She reached a hand up and tenderly massaged his temples, hoping to make him more comfortable.

"Hmm, that feels good, baby."

They lay quietly in each other's arms for a few moments, before Olivia spoke again. "El…?" Her voice was a hesitant whisper. "There are some things I need you to not do when—when we do make love… at least for a while."

She had his full attention and he leaned up on one elbow, his head resting on his hand, looking down at her with a worried expression. "That's okay, Liv… Tell me—what are they, baby…?"

She refused to look at him, and he noticed tears welling in her eyes. "El, don't—restrain me—you know, like when you hold my arms over my head sometimes?" He started to answer but she continued, her voice catching in a sob. "And don't tangle your hands in my hair—just for awhile, until I…"

She couldn't continue and he wrapped her in his arms, shushing softly. "It's okay, baby… It's okay."

"No. No, Elliot. It isn't! I've always loved it when you put your hands in my hair and that bastard stole that from me," she cried disconsolately. "He held me by my hair—so tight my scalp still hurts—it was excruciating. He made me look at him. I couldn't move my face away when he touched me… He started to force himself on me—kissing me and forcing his tongue in my mouth; and I couldn't move. Elliot, I was so afraid he was gonna rape me before anyone got there." Her body wracked with her sobs, as his tears mingled with hers.

"I'm so sorry, Liv. I'm so sorry. Baby, I'll do whatever you need… I promise you—we'll be okay, Olivia. I promise."

Her sobs quieted as she snuggled deeper into him, believing his promise—confident they'd work it out together. In that moment she thanked whatever Deity might be listening that this man was truly hers—knowing he was everything she'd ever wanted or would ever need.

Elliot held her tenderly, so grateful she'd openly shared with him… understanding what an enormous step this was for her. "Baby, I've missed holding you like this; I don't even feel whole anymore when you're not in my arms, Olivia. It feels so good… so right to hold you. God how I love you," he whispered into her hair, not realizing she'd already drifted off. He was only moments behind her, and they both fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

**Tuesday, December 11****th**

A much more rested Olivia waited impatiently for Elliot to return with his son. She held the door open as Eli came bounding through… Elliot was right behind balancing the pizza and drinks, with Eli's backpack slung over one shoulder. The little boy hurtled himself at her, throwing his arms around her waist. "Olivia!" he squealed, having finally learned to wrap his tongue around her name. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you too, buddy! So, so much, Eli..." She knelt down to his level rather than attempting to pick him up, knowing her back and shoulders weren't quite up to the task. He continued to hug her, draping his arms around her neck now that he could reach more than her waist. She kissed his cheek, marveling at how smooth and soft it felt against her lips.

When he finally released her, he pulled away and stopped short… a look of dismay on his face. He gently reached a hand to her cheek. "Olivia, you have a booboo… an' it's even worser than Daddy's lip," he declared, the knowledge clouding his eyes. "Did the bad lady hurt you, too?"

Olivia looked questioningly up at Elliot before answering, quite surprised he'd been so forthcoming with him. He nodded slightly letting her know it was okay to give him a watered-down version of the truth. "No, Eli… A very bad man hurt me."

"Did you beat him up, Daddy—for hurtin' Olivia?"

"No, Eli… The policemen took him to jail, buddy."

His eyes were big as saucers as he gaped at the black and blue bruise that had spread across her cheekbone and under her eye. "Does it hurt?"

"Only a little bit, now… It's much better than it was."

The little boy tentatively reached both hands up to touch her. He stood with them tenderly cradling her face—one on each of her cheeks as he gazed earnestly into her eyes. "I would never hurt you, Olivia," he declared fervently.

"You know what, Eli…? That makes me feel really good. Thank you." Her eyes misted and her voice wavered… but she quickly pulled herself together, not wanting to upset him further. Placing her hands over each of his she gently pulled them away from her face, drawing him to her for one more hug before gingerly moving her abused body to a standing position. "Your Daddy told me you have some pictures for me… May I see them after we eat our pizza?"

* * *

The time spent with Eli had been just what the doctor ordered: Olivia felt her energy renewed and the joie-de-vie she'd been lacking since her involvement with the case begin to seep back into her battered psyche. He chattered non-stop, his topics including everything from his activities in kindergarten to what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas. He'd shown Olivia each of the pictures he'd so painstakingly drawn for her, having already shown the ones he'd drawn for his Dad to him as soon as he'd entered Kathy's residence to pick him up. Together they'd chosen five to display on the refrigerator and the bulletin board in the kitchen. The time had flown, and all too soon it was time to return him home because tomorrow was a school day.

Now she leaned back into the couch cushions with her cup of tea—a habit she fully intended to re-establish—savoring a quiet moment while she waited for Elliot to return from dropping him off. Her mind wandered over the events of the day. She'd managed to sleep until ten-thirty, and might have slept longer if the enticing aroma of coffee and chocolate chip pancakes hadn't wafted into the bedroom, tickling her olfactory senses.

She'd stumbled into the kitchen, her sleep-laden body still groggy even after washing her face and brushing her teeth. Elliot's grin told her she must be a sight and she'd self-consciously raised her hand to her hair, raking her fingers through it, attempting to restore some semblance of style. He'd slowly walked over to her, placing his hands on her hips and drawing her to him, his smile so wide he'd flinched when it pulled at his still-healing lip. He lowered his face to hers and gently bossed her lips with his own, then growled into her ear. "You are one _hot_ mess this morning, detective."

She'd peered up at him through the halo of unruly hair, trying hard to appear reproachful, but the breakfast he'd prepared for her beckoned and she'd grinned instead and stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "You better be good to me…" she breathed huskily into his ear, giving him a sexy wink as she'd pulled away. His look of surprise matched her own sense of wonderment, as she realized she was flirting in earnest. She smiled now, as she remembered the moment, pushing herself further into the comfy cushion behind her back and taking a sip of her tea. She'd definitely wanted to make love to him… and in that moment she'd known they'd be okay.

Of course the day had other plans for how they'd spend their time: Before their breakfast had hardly been finished, Don Cragen had checked in with her, wanting to be sure they were both really home, and safe. He'd insisted she take some of the many hours she had back-logged… at least until Elliot had to go back to work on Monday; she didn't fight him on it. He'd also told her she'd need to check in with Dr. Huang before she could be reinstated for active duty, which she'd known would be the case.

The day had been a blur of telephone calls from friends checking in, including each of Elliot's children. She'd made plans to go Christmas shopping with the girls, and they'd sorted out the up-coming holiday events and schedules. When they weren't on the phone they were catching up on household chores, laundry, and paying bills; all the things that tend to pile up over a couple of weeks. And then it'd been time for Eli: She sighed contentedly, remembering some of the interactions between the three of them. The day had been a whirlwind of activity, and she'd enjoyed every moment of it.

Olivia heard a key in the lock and realized Elliot was back already. "Hey, Liv…" he called as he walked in and hung up his coat. "I'm just gonna grab a beer and I'll be right in… You want anything?"

"I'm good—I've got tea."

A moment later he settled beside her on the couch, grinning at the teacup in her hand. "Thought you'd given up on tea," he teased, taking a long draught of his beer. "The way you were guzzling coffee these last few weeks you're gonna be goin' through caffeine withdrawal."

She rolled her eyes and scooted closer to him, drawing her legs under her. "It takes twenty-one days to break a habit or start a new one… it's only been fourteen—I'll be fine." She reached up and placed a kiss on his cheek, nuzzling into him; enjoying the light scraping of his five o'clock shadow against her skin. When she pulled away she took his hand. "Hey, think we can talk about somethin' serious for a minute…?" She was looking down at their clasped hands, suddenly pensive.

Elliot set his beer down and took the teacup from her, placing it beside his beer on the coffee table. "Of course we can, baby. Everything okay, Liv…?"

She raised her eyes to his. "Yeah. Yeah… Everything's okay, Elliot," she said softly. She seemed almost shy, hesitating before she continued. "El… Remember when you first wanted me to move in with you, and I—well, I freaked out?"

Elliot's stomach dropped. He didn't think he could bear it if she decided she needed to move back to her apartment, but he knew she'd just gone through some really difficult stuff. They'd agreed she'd hold onto her place as long as she needed—until she was sure she wanted to 'officially' live together. God help him, if she was backtracking on their relationship he thought it might kill him. But he loved her so much—whatever she needed, he would agree to. He cleared his throat. "Yeah… I remember, Liv. Do you need some time…?"

"Elliot, I wanna sell my apartment." She blurted it out so fast he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. She shifted position on the couch until she was on her knees, facing him. She leaned back on her haunches, to get a better look at his face. "This is my home, El… Wherever you are—that's my home."

At first he was so shocked he couldn't speak, and then he was so choked up he couldn't. He drew her to him until their foreheads were touching… Moisture pooled in his eyes as a grin brightened his face.

She looked into his eyes, happy tears sparkling in her own. "After we sell it, let's find our own place together."

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading. Chapter 21 will be up within the next week to ten days.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey everyone. I am so sorry for not updating sooner (and after I made the bold statement that it would never be more than 2 weeks!). My computer crashed and I don't currently have the finances to replace it. I was fortunate enough to use a friends' in the meantime, so I have the next chapter for you. Thank you to all of you who reviewed my latest chapter and especially to those of you who missed me and encouraged me to continue. I will finish it (although not in as timely a manner as I'd hoped).**

_"Elliot, I wanna sell my apartment." She blurted it out so fast he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. She shifted position on the couch until she was on her knees, facing him. She leaned back on her haunches, to get a better look at his face. "This is my home, El… Wherever you are—that's my home."_

_At first he was so shocked he couldn't speak, and then he was so choked up he couldn't. He drew her to him until their foreheads were touching… Moisture pooled in his eyes as a grin brightened his face._

_She looked into his eyes, happy tears sparkling in her own. "After we sell it, let's find our own place together."_

**Chapter 21**

**Wednesday, December 12th**

Eliot opened his eyes, slowly becoming conscious of the warm curves wrapped in his arms as he instinctively pressed his morning hard-on against her luscious backside.

"Mmmm… Don't tease me, El," she grumbled.

He chuckled softly, burying his face in her hair. "Sorry, baby, I wasn't really awake yet." He placed sweet kisses at her temple. "Go back to sleep, Liv," he whispered. "You need your rest. You're still pretty uncomfortable—you groaned every time you moved last night, baby." His voice was full of emotion as he thought about the pain Kundak had inflicted on her… He was determined to be as gentle with her as possible, and wait until her body was healed—no matter how badly he wanted… needed her. He pulled her closer. "When we make love I don't wanna hurt you, Olivia. Besides, I've got some errands to run. You okay with that?" he murmured softly.

She snuggled against him, and mumbled something unintelligible. Moments later he felt her body relax as she fell back into a deep slumber. He held her tenderly, remembering her fervent declaration last night. A smile crept from his heart lighting his face. They'd talked long into the night about their plans and made a laundry list of things they'd need to do. They'd agreed to wait until after the Holidays to list her apartment, and then wait until the sale had been finalized before they looked for a place together. He tried not to think about what this could mean but his mind wasn't going to cooperate: If she was ready to give up her apartment and fully commit to living together, how far off could it be before she'd agree to at least becoming his fiancé? He forced his mind away from the thought, and carefully extricated himself from her—hoping to not disturb her again. He quietly climbed out of bed and grabbed his clothes on his way to the bathroom.

Elliot stepped into the shower and under the hot flow, allowing the water to cascade over him. He picked up his soap and laved it over his body, intent on showering as quickly as possible. He had several errands to run that needed to be done without Olivia… Her birthday was tomorrow and he had a ton of plans to finalize. He grabbed the shampoo, pouring a small amount into his hand. He rubbed it vigorously into his scalp, wincing when his fingers connected with the injuries inflicted by Tonia. Shuddering, his mind flashed back to the moments on his knees, with the gun jammed to his head. Even thinking back on it now, it was his remembered concern for Olivia's safety that caused him to recoil… never his own. He shook his head as though to rid himself of the unwelcome thoughts.

After rinsing, he stepped out of the shower, drying himself thoroughly with a towel. He dressed hurriedly, foregoing a shave—he had too many things to do to dally. He'd grab a coffee on his way into the precinct.

* * *

"Look who's here, guys." Munch slowly sauntered over as Elliot made his way to Olivia's desk and set down the coffees and pastries he'd picked up at everyone's favorite deli. "You look better than when I last laid eyes on you, man." Munch placed a hand on Elliot's shoulder, giving an affectionate squeeze.

"Yeah… a good night's sleep in your own bed'll do that for ya," Elliot allowed, smiling appreciatively at his old friend.

The other member's of Olivia's team slowly made their way over. "How's Olivia, Elliot?" Munch's eyes were filled with concern.

Elliot acknowledged the group as they gathered around, indicating they should help themselves to the goodies and coffee he'd brought. He turned to address Munch's question. "She's doing okay…" He felt himself well with emotion and quickly ducked his head. When he raised it again, there was a smile on his face and moisture in his eyes. "Better than okay… she's gonna be fine. Thanks to you guys..." His voice broke, and he looked at each of Olivia's teammates. "You know what you probably saved her from…" He lowered his eyes, unwilling to articulate the horror of what probably would've happened had it not been for them.

At that moment, much to Elliot's relief, Captain Cragen came barreling out of his office having noticed the crowd gathered around Olivia's desk… Assuming she'd ignored his orders to take some time off, he'd come out fully prepared to scold her and send her home. He stopped short when he realized she wasn't there. "Elliot…?" His eyes betrayed his concern before he was able to voice it. "Is she…"

"She's fine. She's great, Cap…. She's gonna be okay." Elliot stepped forward, and the two men embraced. "Thank you, Don," he whispered. He pulled away. "She's sleepin' in so I figured I'd grab the chance to finish planning her party… It's tomorrow, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Cragen smiled but wasn't quite ready to leave the topic of the well-being of the two people who'd become family to him. He gave Elliot an assessing look. "How 'bout you, son… How're you doing?"

"I'm good, Cap. As long as she's okay, I'm good… You know that." He smiled, his eyes twinkling, and there was no doubt in Don Cragen's mind as to the truth of that statement. Elliot turned to address the group that still surrounded Olivia's desk, eating pastries, drinking coffee, and shooting the breeze—just catching up after the harrowing days they'd just been through together. "Hey, I need you guys to help me make a decision about Liv's party. You still all coming…?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Fin drawled, as an affectionate smirk curled his lips. His friendship with Olivia had survived his attraction to her and had become the stronger for it. He still struggled with the magnitude of his feelings for her from time to time, but recently he'd been heartened to find that someone else had caught his eye and he had renewed hope for moving on. In the meantime he and Elliot had adopted a truce and found a grudging respect slowly developing between them.

"How 'bout you, Amaro… you gonna make it?"

"I'll be there."

"You sure she's gonna be up for this, Elliot?" The question came from Rollins.

"She wasn't up for it _before_ this whole FBI sting, Amanda. She's still gonna shoot him," Munch snickered.

Elliot chuckled nervously as the group had a quiet laugh. He knew Munch was probably right. But it was her forty-fifth birthday, and the first one they'd celebrate together… as a couple. Besides, in all the years he'd known her, he knew no one else had ever bothered to celebrate it right. He doubted that Serena had ever spent much time celebrating it when she was a child, either. He'd be damned if he wasn't going to make this special for her, and let her friends celebrate with her: It was about time she learned how much she was loved.

"What's your question, man?" This from Amaro who was getting anxious to get on with his day.

"I got a call from John Lamb…"

"Wait… The 'Crestview' John Lamb who was all tied up in the FBI thing…?" Munch asked, intrigued by the possibility. "…the same John Lamb with the underground hideout free from the prying eyes of big brother?" Lamb had clearly become John Munch's new hero.

Elliot looked in his direction, his eyebrows quirked in amusement. "One and the same, Munch. You done…? Can I continue?"

"Oh, by all means. What did he want?"

"He's offered the private use of the Country Club for Olivia's party. Frank happened to mention we were celebrating her birthday… I invited Frank, by the way," Elliot interjected, pausing and scanning the group quickly to see if anyone objected. "We'd have full access to the club dining hall, with all the amenities of the kitchen and bar… and live music. They'd cater the whole thing—free of charge."

"What the hell! Someone's sufferin' from a guilty conscience. So what's the problem, Stabler? It's not like you've had a chance to really pull anything else together… I mean, have you actually made any other arrangements yet?"

"No, Fin… That's just it—I'm so far behind the eight-ball on this because of the last few weeks, and this would sure solve a lotta problems for me. It's all decorated for the Holidays… and it's better'n anything I could afford to do for her. Lamb was genuinely impressed with her—and he doesn't impress easy. But I think you're right..." He turned his focus on Fin. "I think he's feeling a bit guilty that things got so far out of hand, and she came so close…"

Fin interrupted, saving Elliot the awkwardness of continuing. "So whaddya want from us, Stabler…? Sounds like you got it all worked out."

"Yeah… I know. There's only one thing I'm concerned about though: I know Hempstead isn't one of her favorite destinations right now, although there was nothing bad or traumatizing that happened at the club… Not like Crestview. D'ya think she'd be okay with it?" Elliot glanced at the faces around him, hoping someone would give him a sense one way or the other. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable.

"I don't know, Elliot…" Munch pushed his glasses halfway down his nose peering over them. "I think you're the only one that can answer that question. But it isn't gonna make any difference anyway. She's gonna shoot you regardless of where you have it," teased Munch.

"Lot a help you are," Elliot groused. He looked up at the group then shook his head, wondering about his own sanity. "Munch's probably right… She's gonna kill me no matter where we have it: Might as well go big… I'll call John and tell him to plan for a party of twelve."

* * *

Elliot stepped away long enough to make the call to Lamb. By the time he finished his call the group had dispersed and gone back about their business, but Cragen still lingered outside his office. "Do you have a few minutes Elliot," he asked looking hopeful.

"Yeah... Yeah. I wanna run a few things by you anyway, Cap."

The two men entered Cragen's office and Elliot plunked down in the nearest chair while the older man settled himself behind his desk.

Elliot leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So Cap, I've decided to have a much smaller group for Liv's party than I'd originally planned… For one thing it's too late to spring this on folks, but after the last few weeks I just want her to be surrounded with people who really care about her—people she's comfortable being around. It'll be you and the team: Munch and Fin—Rollins and Amaro. Huang is coming, and Alex. Frank, of course… Oh, and I've invited Melinda. But that's it unless you can think of anyone I should add to the list."

Cragen looked pensive for a moment before responding. "No, I think you've about covered it, Elliot."

My kid's are plannin' their own family party for her when the twins and Kathleen get home for the Holiday break. The girls have absolutely insisted on it, and Eli is beside himself with excitement." He shook his head, a fond grin on his face. "He's nearly let the cat-out-of-the-bag a few times."

Cragen smiled, his eyes dancing with delight at the obvious good relationship that Olivia shared with Elliot's children—knowing how much she loved them. "Sounds like they're pretty fond of her?"

"Oh, yeah! How could they not love her? She adores them… spoils every one of 'em."

"That's good… It's about time she had the opportunity…" He didn't finish the thought but gave Elliot a look that wasn't lost on him. Neither of the men pursued it and Cragen shifted the topic of conversation. "So… What are you getting her for her birthday?" He continued, before Elliot could respond, his eyes twinkling. "Something that glitters…?"

Elliot shifted uncomfortably, a self-conscious grin on his face. "If she'd let me, I'd have already put a ring on her finger… Hell, I'd've married her by now! Goddamn, she's stubborn," he groused, shaking his head.

Cragen gave a look of surprise. "What's she waitin' for. She's so obviously head over heels in love with you, I hardly know her some days… I've never seen her so happy, Elliot."

"Really…?" His grin widened until he was beaming. "I mean… I know she loves me—I have no doubts about that. But she's been reluctant to allow us to move it forward—she wants to take it slow. She's so independent and so used to being on her own… She has been her whole life. She's scared to death of this commitment, Cap."

Cragen leaned forward on his desk, his look suddenly tender… his voice soft when he responded. "She's afraid she'll lose it all, Elliot. The woman's lost almost everything she's ever loved her whole life. She's taking it slow… making sure it's gonna last."

"Yeah… I know that, Cap," he admitted, scrubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw. Suddenly his face broke into a grin. "But we're makin' progress… She told me she's ready to sell her apartment—wants us to buy one together after hers sells."

Cragen shared in his obvious jubilation, congratulating him hardily. "See—she'll get there… You just keep treatin' her right."

Elliot looked down at his hands for a minute before raising his head again, the look in his eyes solemn, as he focused on his former boss and dear friend. He made no attempt to hide his emotion when he spoke. "Cap, I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you did… You saved her…" His voice broke. "…maybe even her life." He lowered his eyes allowing a moment to compose himself before continuing. "You must be in a world of trouble with IAB."

Cragen's eyes revealed the depth of his own feelings on the subject of Olivia's close call, and it was a moment before he could respond. When he did, his voice was steady. "No, surprisingly we're not." He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, an amused smirk on his face. "I suspect John Lamb might have had a little talk with Tucker. We really only got a slap on the wrist. Course it helped that Putnam initially called us in on it… even if it was 'information only' she was seeking." He leaned forward, the expression on his face leaving no question as to how much this meant to him. He lowered his voice and held Elliot's eyes as he uttered his next words. "Wouldn't have mattered anyway… You guys are family. Not one of Olivia's co-worker's flinched at going in—and they knew what they were putting on the line."

Elliot was too emotional to respond and both men sat quietly, allowing the enormity of the moment to pass. "Hmmph…" He cleared his throat before attempting to speak. "I talked with Frank. Seems Lamb and Putnam didn't fare quite as well… although it could've been worse. Putnam received a censure, but Lamb may be in more serious trouble with the brass. There'll be a hearing due to Tonia's death—and to determine the extent of his infractions… He may be cleared in the end. I'll certainly go to bat for him."

Before Cragen could respond, Elliot's cell phone rang, startling both men. He quickly retrieved it from his pocket, and glanced at it, noting it was Olivia. Before he caught himself, a besotted smile crossed his face. "It's Liv… I gotta take it," he grinned sheepishly.

Cragen stood, waving his acceptance and rolled his eyes affectionately. "Go, go… I've got things to tend to here… I'll catch up with you later."

* * *

"Hey, Liv… What's up?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the precinct. Just wanted to pass some information on to Cragen… I talked with Frank earlier." Elliot danced around the question, trying to cover his tracks and keep the 'surprise party' a _surprise_.

"Oh…? Anything I need to know?"

"No. Nothing important... Just information I figured he'd be interested in... Nothing you even need to think about. How're you feelin' this morning, baby?"

"A little achy… But better—much better." Her voice got soft. "I just miss you… I was looking forward to waking up with you this morning."

Elliot understood it was a statement, and not accusatory… That wasn't the way she operated. He marveled once again at the phenomenon that was Olivia Benson, and thought how lucky he was. "I'm sorry, baby… but if I'd stayed in bed any longer, I'm pretty sure I couldn't have kept from ravishing you," he growled, getting hard just thinking about her sexy curves and big brown eyes.

She gave a throaty laugh. "Why do you think I'm missing you?" she teased.

"Ooh, I'd say someone's feelin' a lot better. Think you can hold that thought for a while longer, baby? I've got a bunch of errands to run."

"Oh yeah… I don't see this condition changin' any time soon," she chortled. "Besides, I'm going out, too." She hesitated for just a beat before continuing. "Dean Porter called me," she said quietly. "He wants to meet for coffee. Wants to clear the air between us…"

Elliot didn't speak, stalling for time—intent on not overreacting to her news.

"I promised him we'd talk after this was over," she hurried to say, when she received no response from him.

He cleared his throat. "Why, Olivia? Why would you put yourself through this… especially right now?"

"Elliot… This isn't just for him. This is something I need to do, too." She softened her voice, knowing how difficult this was for him to accept. "We were wrong about him, El… We didn't exactly make this easy on him."

"Do you remember what a jackass he was at the beginning, Liv? And have you forgotten Rojas?" He tried to keep his frustration from coming through… failing miserably.

"Elliot, I'm not asking for your permission…"

"Believe me, I know that," he retorted, unable to mask the sarcasm. Before she could respond, he apologized. "I'm sorry, Liv… You wouldn't be the woman I love if you were…" he managed to chuckle. "I just worry about you… You've been through a lot, Olivia."

"I'm fine, El… I wouldn't meet him if I didn't feel up to it… I just want to get it over with and put it behind me."

"Okay… But, Liv…? I swear to god, if he tries to kiss you I'll hunt him down."

* * *

Olivia grinned and rolled her eyes as she ended the conversation with Elliot. She wasn't looking forward to her conversation with Dean, but she did want to get it over with. He'd called before she'd had her morning coffee, and if he'd not been so insistent she'd have scheduled their talk for a week or two later.

As she hurried through her morning routine, she reflected on how surreal it felt: She no longer needed to be conscious of her every move as she tried to out-maneuver a camera lens—worrying about someone intent on doing her grievous harm. She shuddered, not wanting to think about the last few weeks.

She tried to rush through her shower, but forced herself to take it slow, appreciating the comfort of the moist heat on her still-stiff muscles. When she finished she stepped out and quickly dried herself, the bruising on her body reminding her once again of her ordeal. Looking in the mirror, she realized she'd need to cover the discoloration on her face. There were shadows under her eyes, but not full-blown shiners… A little skillfully applied make-up hid them quite well. The bruise on her cheek was another story, and no amount of makeup was going to completely cover it. She finally sighed and gave up, hoping no one would think she was being battered. She put on a turtle-neck shirt with long sleeves under her sweater to cover the other marks on her body, thankful it was winter. She was finally ready to leave the house.

A short time later she entered the café where she'd agreed to meet Porter. She looked around spotting him almost immediately, and made her way to the table where he was seated. He stood and pulled out her chair… He was back to being the consummate gentleman, she noted. "Thank you," she mumbled, sitting down and placing her purse on the floor beneath her chair.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Liv."

"I promised we'd talk when this was over… That's the only reason I'm here, Dean," she informed him, picking up the menu.

"And I appreciate it… So, thank you." He looked her over appraisingly. "You did a great job covering the bruises," he said softly. "I expected they'd be a lot more noticeable." He kept his eyes on her face and before she could reply, he continued. "You look lovely, as always, Olivia."

"Please don't, Dean… or I'll leave now."

He held up his hand. "I'm sorry, Liv… Please—stay." He picked up his own menu and looked it over. "You gonna get something to eat…?"

"No, I'm having tea… I'm just checking to see if they have any green decaffeinated."

When she looked up, his smile was bordering on a smirk. "Those tree-huggers really got to you, didn't they…?" She chose to ignore his remark, laying down the menu as the waitress approached the table.

The young woman looked as though her day had started early and the expression on her face mirrored her boredom and peevishness at needing to service customers. Porter smiled charmingly at her, refusing to be put off by her attitude. "What selections do you have for decaffeinated green tea?"

She gave him an appraising look, and returned a smile of her own, revealing a pretty face that would have missed the mark without it. "I didn't figure you for a tea-drinker," she scoffed.

"Porter rolled his eyes, flirting back, and inclined his head toward Olivia. It's for the lady."

Olivia watched with amusement, as the waitress turned her attention her way… minus the smile. She looked her over, clearly taking in the bruising on her face, but making no comment about it. "She your girlfriend?" she asked, her tone surly and dismissive.

"Only in my dreams," Porter intoned, careful to avoid Olivia's scowl—returning the smile to the waitress's face.

She turned her attention back to Olivia. "We have Lemon-Zinger and Raspberry," she stated, her voice a monotone.

"I'll have the lemon, please—with a slice of lemon on the side. Thank you." She handed her menu over and the waitress turned her attention back to Porter.

"And what can I get for you?" Her animation had returned and she smiled brightly, her pencil posed over her order pad.

"Just coffee, please. Cream and sugar."

Okay, I'll have that for you before you can miss me," she smirked. "Oh… It'll take a while for yours," she informed Olivia snidely. "They'll have to boil the water."

Porter grinned over at her, and Olivia just shook her head. "She clearly has no idea who she's dealing with, does she, Detective?" he commented.

"I'd say she's pretty clueless all the way around," Olivia deadpanned. "So, what do you want to talk about, Dean?" she asked, all levity gone from her tone.

His face changed, the grin replaced by a rueful smile. "I guess I wanna start with an apology, Oliva. My behavior when you came on board a few weeks ago was unconscionable… I didn't mean to add to the stress of the situation, and I certainly didn't mean for you to be afraid of me, Liv."

Before she could reply, the waitress set coffee, cream and sugar in front of him and he smiled appreciatively, earning a wiggle of her hips for his efforts, as she walked away from the table.

Olivia didn't miss a beat. "You were a jerk, Dean," she said quietly. She wasn't letting him off the hook. "But I understand what you were trying to do… And I appreciate that you took this on because you were concerned about me." She looked down for a moment but quickly raised her eyes to his again, and this time they were spitting fire. "But that doesn't excuse what you did when Rojas was holding me at gunpoint… It was because of you he took me hostage." Her voice was bitter, and once again she dropped her eyes from his face. "And then you just walked away."

"Yeah. I'm all kinds of an ass, Olivia… And believe me—I've paid for it…. Dearly." Olivia found herself dreading his next words as she observed the solemn look in his eyes. "If I could take back every move I've made with you since Oregon, and do it over—I'd do it all differently: I'd have pursued something with you, Olivia… I'd have changed my life to accommodate a relationship with you."

Olivia was stunned into silence. She finally found her voice. "Wow. Dean, why are you telling me all this now?"

He gave a bitter laugh. "Hindsight's a bitch." He looked over at her. "But it wouldn't have mattered. You've always belonged to him—_Stabler_…" He said the name as though it were a bad taste in his mouth. "From the time I've known you." She cringed at the bitterness in his voice. "And the pity of it is neither of you even realized it… not back then." He moved closer, leaning across the table, looking into her eyes—his look wistful and his voice soft. "And if I'd just made a move, I might have been able to make you forget him." When she didn't respond, he pulled back, slouching into his chair. The bitterness had returned to his voice. "You're too good for him."

He looked intently at her, but she had no words for the revelation he'd just made. He leaned toward her again, this time with pleading in his eyes. "Tell me you didn't feel something, Olivia… Tell me there was never any spark between us." When she didn't respond, he continued. "See, you can't deny it," he said triumphantly. "There was something there… Maybe it started as a physical attraction, but it became more than that… Or it could've been—if your asshole partner had stayed out of it."

Those words roused her and her eyes narrowed. "This had nothing to do with Elliot Stabler. You're the one that fucked this up, Dean… You're the one that put my life in jeopardy, and then told me our feelings didn't matter. Don't you dare blame this on him! I know he can be an ass… Believe me, I know better than most. But this was on you." She started to rise, but he reached his hand to her, entreating her to stay.

"Please, Olivia. I'm sorry… I'm sorry. You're right, and I got way off-track here. I know there's nothing that will change what happened between us. And I know you'll never be able to understand what I did, because I'm not at liberty to tell you what was at stake. I promise you I would never have let you be hurt that day, and I'd like to think you can forgive me." He looked beseechingly at her. "I would never do anything to hurt you or put you in harm's way, Olivia."

"What do you want from me, Dean?"

"I can't have what I want, Liv," he said sadly. "But it seems our paths are likely to cross, and I'd like to think we can be friends. I'd like to not be forced to act like a complete jerk again if we end up working on the same case somewhere down the road." He grinned over at her trying to lighten the mood, and she softened toward him and settled back into her chair waiting for him to continue.

"I promise I'll conduct myself appropriately, Olivia… around you _and _Stabler. I know you're in a committed relationship. He's obviously crazy about you," he admitted grudgingly. "And it appears he makes you happy—treats you well." He lifted an eyebrow as though hopeful she would deny his observations.

Olivia raised her head and looked him steadfastly in the eye. "I've never been so happy, Dean… I had doubted anyone could make me as happy as he does. I love him very much." A flash of pain crossed his face and he broke eye contact with her, focusing instead on his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. She continued quietly. "If you're serious about a friendship with me, he and I are a package deal. I know he can be a jackass where you're concerned, and I'll talk to him. But if you can't be civil to him… we can't be friends."

Porter slowly lifted his eyes to hers once more. "I will take—and value—your friendship on any terms, Olivia."

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading. I'll upload Chapter 22 as soon as I have access to a computer again.**


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